A Fresh Start
by maremarethebear
Summary: Gale has just been granted a fresh start working for the military in District 2 when a girl from his past shows up and threatens to change everything. With his foundations shaken and a rebel fringe group causing terror for the new government, Gale is forced to face his demons or risk losing everything that matters to him.
1. Chapter 1

**So this is something I'm just trying on for size. I'm not a huge Gale/Madge fan, but I don't like the idea of Madge dead and Gale's story just ended so I decided to fill in some of the blanks with this story. Tell me what you think. Criticism much appreciated =) **

**This takes place 6 months after Katniss shot Coin.**

Gale P.O.V

One month after Katniss shot Coin, I was offered a spot as a Commander. I excepted immediately. I had no idea what they wanted me to do or who I was working for. All I knew was that it wasn't the Capitol where the worst had already happened, so I went. The only reason for me to stay would be Katniss, but she hates me so I've lost all reason.

Katniss says she doesn't blame me for Prim's death, but I know she does. I know that the sight of me just brings back painful memories she'd rather not dig up. So I'm going to eliminate at least one source of pain for her, no matter the cost to myself.

It turns out my job is to train new recruits to serve as a police force. They also want me working with Beetee, who was also offered a job, working in weaponry. The hours are long, the job is hard but I don't complain for a single moment. The hard lifestyle suits me.

After the rebellion, District 2 took on its true role as a military base. I split my time between command and training our new peacekeepers, now called NUO, or National Union Officers. For three months we bickered over whether or not to keep the name "peacekeeper". We finally decided that the name was associated with the Capitol and all the horror it stood for. Coleri Jund, another Commander, came up with NUO, and by that time we were so sick of the topic we agreed with the suggestion.

Command is situated in the middle of District 2. It's a clean, white office which seems made of white lines. The uniformity is both comforting and unnerving. I try to spend as little time in it as I possibly can, but sometimes it's unavoidable. Like now.

The leader of NUO, Riemet Amatore, called a meeting so that we can discuss uniforms. A meeting he's failed to show up to. Shocker. I've put my vote in two months ago. Black pants. Black shirt. Black bulletproof vest over the black shirt. Black helmet. Black boots. Black weapons belt. But, as always, one of the Capitol assholes thought it was perfectly necessary to have hours worth of discussion over color, fabric, stitching and a million other useless details. Like usual, I spend the time doing the overload of paperwork that would otherwise continue to accumulate on my desk.

Sunday Nemasani, one of those "Capitol assholes", was just describing the exact shade of blue she wanted for the weapons belt when the door flew open. I whipped my head around to see Hidiris, one of my soldiers who I've affectionately nicknamed 19, burst through the door, red in the face.

"19," I say, my voice controlled. "You better have a good reason as to why you'd intrude on such an," I flash a glance at Sunday, "_important_ meeting." I hear a few suppressed snickers.

"Commander Hawthorne," he says, saluting me. "I was told to get you immediately. Someone's come—"

"Say no more, 19," I say standing up. Anything to get me out of this time waster of a meeting. I follow him out the door, noticing the stiff set of his shoulders. He walks mechanically, his buzz cut head remaining comically straight. I smile, amused at how nervous I make my soldiers. He waits for me by the door, then falls into step beside me.

"So what's this about?" I ask him. He swallows, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat with the movement.

"I—I'm not really sure."

"Must be pretty important," I note. He says nothing, marching rigidly forward. I follow his lead through the maze of hallways and to General Amatore's office. Maybe he didn't just skip out on the meeting. I knock twice on his door.

"Come in," says the booming voice of authority. I walk in and immediately assume perfect posture as I salute him. "At ease, Commander." I let my hand fall, relaxing my stance only slightly. "Something has come up. Something pertaining to you, personally." My mind goes immediately to Katniss. I feel every muscle in my body tense as I file through all the things that could have possibly happened to her.

General Amatore stands and gestures for me to follow him. I turn briefly to 19.

"You're dismissed," I say. He salute's me and hurries away. I follow the General down a series of halls that are unfamiliar to me. He opens a door numbered 213 and walks through it. I follow him inside. It's a small bedroom complete with a dresser, lamp, barred window, and a bed. And on that bed sits Madge Undersee. My heart drops through my stomach.

"Madge," I say incredulously.

"Gale!" she says jumping up. The excitement playing in her eyes confuses me.

"You're supposed to be dead!" I say.

"You too." Her bright blue eyes scan me.

"But…how? They found your body."

"They said they tortured you to death."

"I see you two have a lot to discuss," General Amatore says. I inhale deeply, holding the breath in my chest then slowly letting it out. The turmoil in my mind quiets slightly. "I would like to remind you both that Madge is a prisoner here and that you, Commander, should treat her as one. And it would be good for Madge to remember her place as well." My eyebrows shoot up.

"Prisoner?" I ask.

"She was found sheltered in an enemy safe house. She's in custody for counts of conspiracy against New Panem and treason." Madge sighs heavily and sinks back into the bed. My eyes flash to the bars on the window. I clear my throat.

"Understood, sir."

"I'll have guards posted outside at all hours of the day. You can bring any news to me personally, understood?"

"Understood, sir," I repeat. Madge makes a sound from her bed which sounds suspiciously like a snicker. I salute General Amatore as he leaves. I turn immediately to Madge.

"Prisoner?" I say again.

"Prisoner," she says quietly.

"Prisoner," I repeat, having a hard time wrapping my mind around the thought of sweet, quiet Madge as a prisoner of the law.

"We've been over this." I cock my head to the side.

"You've changed," I say accusingly.

"You too. The old Gale would never have succumbed to authority like you have."

"And the old Madge was quiet and sweet and nice, and you're…not." She rotates herself so that she's lying on the bed with her arm lying over her eyes. Her blonde hair spilling around her.

"It's been a hard few months."

"I bet," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. She turns so she's lying on her side her blue eyes brimming with tears. Her breath hitches in her throat. I stand there awkwardly, unsure what to do. I've never been comfortable with tears. Suddenly I remember her family, all dead. But if she's alive…

"Madge, what about your family? Are they—" Her voice breaks as she starts to sob. "I'm sorry," I mutter.

"It's—It's not your fault," she sobs. Her voice hitches in her throat. A wave of sympathy cascades through me. I take a few steps forward, wanting to make the tears stop. I tentatively touch her shoulder. Her tear stained eyes look up to meet mine. Her shoulder shakes under my callused hand. I grip her shoulder and pull her up. My other hand cups her soft cheek.

"Madge," I say calmly. "I'm sorry. I forgot about…I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she says. She takes a deep breath. I glance down at my hands on her and quickly snatch them away. I clear my throat. She stares down at her hands, knotted on her lap. The knuckles stand out white.

"I'd better go," I say, feeling uncomfortable. She looks up at me and her face breaks into a gentle grin. "What?" I ask.

"You're blushing," she says, a smile in her sad eyes.

"No, I'm not," I say, straightening up.

"Yes, you are."

"I'm a man. I don't blush." She flashes me a bright smile.

"Right," she says unconvincingly. I grumble under my breath and leave the room. "Wait!" she calls after me. I stop and pivot around. "Can you…never mind."

"Can I what?" I ask. Her face flushes a deep pink. "Now you're blushing," I say, turning half of my mouth up. The pink color turns red. She mumbles something under her breath. "What?"

"See me again," she says, almost inaudibly. I laugh lightly.

"Sure," I say, spinning around and leaving.

"'Bye!" she calls after me. I turn, walking backwards and wave briefly. Once I leave her holding cell I wave at the guards, 21 from my squad and another soldier, and head back to my quarters. I close the door behind he and fall backwards onto my bed with a groan.

_ And just when I'd thought I had everything under control…_

**This is a serious experiment, so tell me what you think. I know their all OOC, and I'm sorry about that. I'm trying to make them all post-war, so that the war has seriously changed them. Reviews, as always, are appreciated. =)**


	2. Chapter 2

Madge P.O.V

Gale's alive. He's alive and well and working in some important government position.

I'm alive. I'm alive and miserable and a prisoner in some important government facility.

Gale looks amazing. He's tall and strong and bronze. His dark hair is the same as it always was. His stormy eyes still hold their intensity. His bronzed skin is still riddled with scars. And he's still intensely handsome.

I look horrible. I'm weak and malnourished and pale. My blonde hair is knotted and hasn't been washed in days. My eyes are dull and lifeless. My skin is covered with what feels like a permanent film of dirt. And I've never looked worse in all my life.

So naturally, now is the time he starts to notice me.

For years I've been in love with him. Have craved those chance meetings in the hallways at school and on the streets of District 12. For years I have made sure I always leave the house looking better then I think necessary for the chance that I do run into him. Hoping and praying that one day, he will notice me and fall in love with me.

And now I know that's never going to happen. Because I'm a prisoner in the important government facility where he has some important government position. Because he's tall and strong and bronze and I'm not. Because my hair looks like someone threw it in a blender then plopped it back on my head and his looks shiny and smooth and beautiful. Because his eyes shine a brilliant grey and my blue eyes seem to fall flat compared to his. Because his bronze skin holds a history of war in its scars and my pale skin holds a history of weakness in its fragility. Because he's flawless and I'm so flawed.

I sit on my bed, staring through the bars on my window. The sun tries to shine through a cover of clouds, but eventual gives up and sinks into the horizon. The moon takes its place, now waging its own war against the clouds. Every time I hear footsteps my mind flashes to Gale, but it's only a changing of the guards. They bring me dinner on a plastic tray and I eat slowly, like I was taught to. Eventually the moon rises to its peak in the sky and I fall asleep.

I'm woken up the next morning by a soldier roughly pushing me with the tip of a gun. I shoot up, surprised by the rough awakening. Three more soldiers surround me and lead me through a maze of hallways. I end up in a large room. A large table occupies a large portion of the room. It's strewn with a wide arrangement of maps. The wall to my right is a large screen broken up into many smaller screens. Around the table sits a variety of important looking people. Including Gale.

I take a series of deep breaths in order to control my pounding heart. Gale looks relaxed in this room, like he belongs there. I look at him a moment longer, quickly observing that he's not as relaxed as he's trying to be. Gale's face looks controlled, his lips drawn in a taught line. His shoulders are stiff and his chin is slightly raised, all signs that he's stressed under his well kept together exterior.

"How did you enjoy your first night here?" asks the man who met me at the gate when they first brought me here. I know he's someone very important, but for the life of me I can't remember his name.

"It was nice," I lie. "Thank you for asking, sir." I refuse to let my manners fall, no matter how badly I want to let loose and ask him how he'd like waking up to a gun buried in _his_ ribs.

"Good to hear," he says. "We have a few questions for you. Would you be willing to answer them?" he asks me. I know this isn't a real question. If I say no, he'll find means to _make_ me answer.

"Of course."

"Good. Very good." His voice grates against my eardrums. There's something dangerous under the sweet sound. Like every word he says is a warning, or more accurately, a threat. "How did you survive the bombing?" No preamble. No warm-up questions. Right into the hard stuff.

"I was in the meadow with my friend, Fawn, when the first bomb was dropped." I relive the moment in my mind. Walking through the meadow one moment, talking to Fawn, one of my father's servants, about something shallow, when the bomb dropped and brought with it the end of my life. "I tried to go back to our house, but by the time I got there it was already in ruins. After that, I didn't know what to do, so I ran into the woods. After awhile the smell of smoke started to fade and I was lost.

"That first night I tried sleeping in a tree like Katniss did in the Hunger Games. I ended out falling out and hurting my shoulder. After that I just walked, always forward, hoping that I'd run into some kind of civilization. I ate these weird purple berries as I walked, but they were never enough to curb my hunger and I dreamed of Capitol food." I flash back to those days, a blur of exhaustion and hunger and walking. I don't know how long I was lost in those woods. The days and nights were indistinguishable from each other.

"After some time I came across an area that was covered in ruins." I remember the horror I first felt when I thought I had returned to District 12, fearing that I had been walking for years. "I stumbled across the rubble, planning on sleeping alongside a broken section of wall, when I was arrested. They brought me to a complex underground facility and held me in a bare room, with my wrists bound to the wall. This woman came in and started asking me questions about me and my family. She didn't believe me when I told her they were dead and started to…" I broke off, taking a deep breath and trying to choke down tears.

"She started to torture me. She kept asking if I knew who she was. She said her name was…" I wrack my mind trying to remember what she said. "It was Coin I think. I think she said she was the President of—"

"No!" Gale said, shooting out of his seat. My eyes flash to his outraged face. "No. No way. There is—that's just not possible. She was _not_ in District 13. I would have known." The important man that's in charge of this interview stands too.

"Commander Hawthorne! Sit down!" The rigidity in his shoulders doesn't relax. The fire remains in his eyes, but he obeys the order. "Continue."

"After a while she sent me to the Capitol, saying that I should be with the other scum like me. So I went and I met Naja. She hid me and fed me. In return for safety, I worked for her, sewing clothes and making meals and stuff like that. Stuff for her and her store. I was there for months. Two days ago they broke into the cellar where I'd been staying and I thought the rebel soldiers had caught us. And then I learned the war had been over for months and I'd been working for nothing. And now I'm a prisoner." I steal a glance at Gale. His eyes are closed, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Interesting. Is it true?" the man asks.

"I couldn't make up a story like that if I wanted to." He nods slowly, considering my words.

"Commander Hawthorne has given a request for your forgiveness. I trust his judgment, so we're going to try something new. Are you willing to become a NUO?"

"A what, sir?"

"A New Union Officer. You would join our forces and be trained to fight in—"

"That is not what I meant," says Gale speaking up again. This time his voice is quieter. "I didn't mean that I wanted her to be thrown into combat. Look at her. Does she look like a fighter to you?" he asks gesturing to me. I raise my chin defiantly.

"I'm a fighter!" I say. The important looking man motions for me to remain silent. I bite the inside of my lip.

"She's enough of a fighter to live this long. She must be enough of a fighter to sit in a district and make sure no one breaks any rules." I look up and meet Gale's eyes. He slowly shakes his head.

"Please, sir, if I could just—"

"That will be enough, Commander Hawthorne! You're dismissed." Gales shocked gaze shoots up and meets the man's authoritative eyes. He nods once compliantly and leaves the room. The man turns his attention to me.

"Will you agree to fight with us?" he asks.

"Yes, sir."

"As of now, you will attend training. You will remain in the same cell as you were in last night. You will be accompanied by at least two guards at all times. You will have meals brought to your room and you will eat them there. These rules will be in effect until you have proven yourself. Do I make myself perfectly clear."

"Yes, sir."

"Escort her to her room," he says to the guards. The behind me keeps a gun trained on my back for the duration of the walk. When we reach my door, I see Gale, leaning against the wall beside it.

"15," he says with a nod at the soldier in front.

"Commander." Gale opens the door and I walk in it. He walks in after me, followed by the soldier he called 15. He turns and shoots a look at him.

"15, are you trying to insult me, or is it unintentional?"

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"Well, it just seems to me that you don't think that I, a highly trained, armed soldier, can't handle her, a weak, tiny unarmed girl."

"I'm sorry, sir. No disrespect meant, sir." The poor soldier stood there, shaking in his boots.

"You're dismissed, 15," Gale said, his voice booming with authority. I flash a glance at the soldier as he leaves the room and then at Gale. I stand by the window, my hands crossed over my chest, and glare at Gale.

"You're really mean to him, Gale," I say, the feeling of his name on my tongue sending a thrill through my system.

"You idiot girl," he says. I shrink away from him. The full fury of his eyes turns to me. "You really think you'll have a nice life as a soldier? You think they'll all welcome you with open arms? Honestly, Madge, what were you thinking?" My response is immediate.

"I was thinking I don't want to be tortured again. I was thinking I don't want to rot to death in this place," I say gesturing to the barred window. "I was thinking I want to see the sky without thick metal bars obscuring my view. That's what I was thinking."

"You could be killed!"

"Working as a Peacekeeper?" I ask, equally outraged.

"People die of stupider things," he says. His eyes are clouded with memory.

"Why do you even care?" I ask him, honestly curious. Before, I was just Katniss's friend. The girl who gave her the Mockingjay pin. The girl who gave him the morphling, not that he ever knew about that.

"Because you're from home, and I've grown fiercely protective of anything that comes from home." Some deep, desperate part of me was hoping it was because he realized he cared about me. More even. That he loved me. Stupid thought.

"I'm a big girl," I whisper. "I can take care of myself." I hear him walk forward. He grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"Maybe you can," he says. "But I don't want to take the chance. If there's any problem, if anyone tries to bully you or hurt you, you tell me immediately. I'll be stopping by here during your meals. I expect a report then."

"You can't tell me what to do."

"Think again, Soldier Undersee. I'm a Commander, therefore I outrank you. Of course I can tell you what to do." He releases my chin and steps away. He takes a quick glance at his watch then looks back at me. "I'll bring you your lunch in two hours." He leaves without waiting for a reply. I walked to my bed and sink into it.

Guaranteed time with Gale. Somehow I don't think it's going to be like I imagined it.


	3. Chapter 3

**This first part of the chapter I wrote for Gale. I always hated how his only friend seemed to be Katniss, so here I'm trying to make him seem a little more likeable. The way Suzanne Collins wrote about him, he almost sounded like a man-whore (with the girls flinging themselves at him and his letting them, and he doesn't have friends other than Katniss…man-whore-y if you ask me). All I want from this is for Gale to be a little less of an ass, so I'm changing his character so that he's more fun. And I'm also making Madge more talkative. I usually don't do crap like this but I don't want to leave them all stiff and awkward.**

**Thanks for reading and enjoy the chapter =)**

Gales P.O.V

Madge doesn't talk, something I don't consider a problem except that it's slightly unnerving in her already silent room. I'm used to meals in a mess hall, surrounded by a bunch of rowdy soldiers, not in a tiny room with a timid girl. It's a relief to return to training after lunch. To let out my own anger, I run the through the obstacle course, yelling at them as the scramble up walls and crawl through mud.

That night I have a hard time sleeping. For months I've been able to tune out Katniss. But now that Madge is here, she's returned with full force. Haymitch sent me a message a few months ago informing me that she had been released from custody and was now living in District 12. It's weird to think of her at home.

As always, the mention of her name sends an onslaught of memories through me. Everything from the kiss she gave me in her kitchen to the hatred that's been in her eyes ever since Prim was killed. Each individual memory ricochets off the inside of my skull, making my head pound. I pull my arms over my head, trying to hold it together. They have a name for this. PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I just call it hell.

Eventually I give up trying to sleep and pick up some of Beetee's sketches for a new, more accurate gun. It has technology that allows it to lock onto a target. It makes missing your target almost impossible. I run through what I know about basic weaponry and write up a report about the weapon. I write about what I think should be changed so that Beetee can alter the design and we can, eventually, perfect it. By the time I finish the report, I'm tired and the sun is starting to lighten the sky.

I walk down to the mess hall and grab a cup of coffee, my new addiction. The kitchen staff has just started cooking.

"Morning," I say.

"Morning," the head chef, Arlo, responds. They kitchen staff are all well aware of my insomnia. Most mornings I'm in their grabbing a cup of coffee and helping them with whatever I can. The first time I showed up, Arlo was floored. He had never expected a high ranking officer to be working in his kitchen. We quickly created a sort of friendship. He's the only person, besides my superiors, who I allow to call me Gale. I pull up my sleeves and start cleaning dishes left over from last night.

"So, I heard there's a girl here from 12." It's not a question.

"And where did you hear that?" I ask. Arlo shrugs his wide shoulders. His red hair falls in his eyes and he hastily pushes it back.

"People talk," he responds, "and I listen." I furiously scrub at the pot I'm holding in my hands. "You know her?" he asks. I grimace.

"Yeah. I know her."

"Friend of yours?"

"Friend of Katniss's." He chuckles at this. I shoot him a half-hearted glare.

"She cute?" I throw a sponge at him and grab another. He chuckles again. "Just a question, Gale. No need to throw things." He tosses the sponge on the counter next to me, purposely not hitting me. "You weren't in the mess hall yesterday." I don't respond, trying to avoid taunting that would be sure to start. "You can't lie yourself out of this one. People talk."

"I was with her."

"You like her?"

"Arlo!" I say, dropping the sponge and turning to look at him. There's a small smile on his lips. He laughs as he slices bread.

"I'll give you the first batch for you and the girl. Sound good?" he asks. I sigh.

"Sounds great." He laughs again and I roll my eyes. I take a long sip of coffee, wishing it was something stronger, something that would numb me. I've cleaned most of the dishes when he finishes the first plate of eggs and toast. He nudges me with his shoulder. I dry off my hands and grab the plates.

I make my way down the winding halls to Madge's room. The hallways are starting to fill with soldiers, used to waking up at the early hours of the morning. Two soldiers I don't know stand guard at Madge's door. The salute as I stop by their door.

"At ease," I say. One of them opens the door for me. I place the plates on the bedside table and gently shake her awake. She sighs softly as her eyes slowly open. A light blush creeps across her cheeks.

"Gale," she says, pulling herself into a sitting position.

"Breakfast," I answer. She sits up and I see she's still wearing the clothes she had on last night. "Have they given you anything to wear, yet?" I ask. She shakes her head. "I'll take care of that. You start training today, right?" She nods. I sigh, audibly. Her eyes flash to mine then down to her hands. "Did they tell you who you're assigned to?" She shakes her head. I resist the urge to shake her.

I close my eyes and take a deep controlled breath, trying to control the anger threatening to choke me. I open my eyes again and plant what feels like a ridiculous smile on my face. She picks up her fork and starts bringing tiny bites up to her mouth. Her posture and poise as she eats grates my nerves.

"Madge." She looks up at me. "Normally it's considered polite to have some sort of civilized discussion during a meal. But this is a training facility, so manners are kind of abandoned. So you have a choice. You can either stop eating like a mouse and keep your vow of silence or you can start talking and keep your mouse-y habits." She sits their mulling it over.

"I don't eat like a mouse," she says finally. I roll my eyes.

"Yes. You do."

"No. I don't."

"Wanna bet?" I ask her. She cocks her head to the side.

"Bet? What do I have to bet?"

"Your dignity," I say.

"What about you? What would I get if I were to win?"

"Isn't my company a good enough prize?" She pretends to think about it.

"Nope," she says with a smile. Madge Undersee is able to make a joke. Amazing.

"Well then how about I give you a kiss. I've heard they're worth more than a person's dignity, so I'm striking you a good deal here." Something passes quickly over her face. After some thinking, she sticks out her hand.

"Deal." This surprises me. I always thought of Madge as some sort of sheltered prude, but here she is, agreeing to this ridiculous bet. I smile and take her hand.

"Soldiers!" I say loudly. They rush into the room with their guns poised. "Easy, there. I just need to ask you a question."

"Yes, sir?"

"Do you think she eats like a mouse?" The looks on the soldiers faces sends Madge into hysterics.

"A—mouse?" one of them asks.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" The man's eyebrows knit together as he observes Madge. "Madge, can you demonstrate for them?" She picks up the fork, fighting the laughter, and eats.

"Definitely a mouse, sir." I smile triumphantly.

"Thank you, soldier. You are dismissed." He nods as he hurries out of the room, the other soldier right on his heels.

"So how do I sign my dignity over to you?" Madge asks. "Is there something I need to sign?"

"Nope. It's an oath."

"An oath. I see."

"Stand up." She stands. "Hold up your right hand." She holds it up. "Now repeat after me. 'I, Madge Undersee, hand my dignity over to Commander Gale Hawthorne, my clear superior.'" She wrinkles her nose in disgust.

"Do I really have—"

"A deals a deal. Are you backing out?" I ask accusingly.

"I, Madge Undersee, hand my dignity over to Commander Gale Hawthorne, my clear superior." I smile at her.

"Good. Now finish eating. I'm going to get you some clothes." I leave without waiting for her response and head to the laundry room. They leave a stack of clean training uniforms that you're allowed to take at anytime. I grab Madge a small pale grey t-shirt, a pair of socks and a pair of tough, black pants. I grab myself the same, except in a larger size and head to my quarters to change into the clean clothes. I pull my thick boots back on and head back to Madge's room.

I throw the clothes at her. She makes a startled sound as they hit her face and fall into her lap. I grin at her.

"Boots?" she asks. I turn to the soldier by the door.

"Soldier," I say. He turns to me.

"Commander."

"Grab a pair of small boots for Soldier Undersee."

"Yes, sir,"

"You could have done that yourself," Madge says.

"But it's so much more fun to get them to do it for me." Madge shakes her head in disgust and I grin. She glances down at the pile of clothes then back up at me, giving me a pointed look.

"I mean no disrespect," she says, "but could you leave so that I could change." I pretend to consider her request.

"I don't think so," I say. Her jaw drops open. I stand there and watch her. She remains sitting, her wide eyes boring into me. I fight the grin that threatens to expose my lie.

"You—you can't—but—is that allowed?" My lips twist up in a smile and I chuckle quietly to myself.

"Do you believe everything everyone tells you?" I ask. Her eyebrows furrow together, then relax with understanding.

"I hate you," she says with a scowl.

"I hate me, too," I smile at her, then head outside to the training center.

An hour later my soldiers are assembled in front of me, awaiting the day's torture. A part of me loves the way they line up in front of me, twenty-seven faces staring at me apprehensively while I decide exactly how miserable I'm going to make them. One of the soldiers nervously bites his lip, waiting for me to speak. I stand there, examining them, feeling the tension crackle and enjoying it thoroughly. Sometimes I love my job.

I'm just about to start the day's lesson when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and meet the eyes of Commander Abbott, a man my age with blue eyes that burn with a deep anger. Beside him stands Madge. Madge is flanked by two guards. I fight to keep my face passive, not allowing my surprise to show.

"This is Soldier Roth and Soldier Gilliam," he says gesturing to the guards. "And this," his face twists in disgust, "is _Soldier _Undersee." He says the "soldier" before her name with a sneer, making it apparent that he considers it insulting to call Madge a soldier. Thinking about it, I don't see why I don't feel the same way. With my loyal soldiers I am undeniably cruel, yet with this prisoner I feel relaxed. Not wanting to think about it too much, I put it down to the fact that she's from District 12 and more than that, she was Katniss's friend.

"Lucky you, Hawthorne. She's been assigned to you." I small smirk crosses his face and I have an urge to remove it with my fist. My mind comes up with a few choice words for General Amatore. I struggle to keep the passive look on my face. Why would the General assign her to me? I nod once.

"Thank you, Abbott. Twenty-eight," I say. Madge doesn't respond, not like expected her to. This was initiation for me. No matter what we did after training hours, she was my soldier now and I have to treat her like one. "Twenty-eight," I repeat. She glances at me. I reach down and grab my gun from my belt. I quickly check to see that the safety is on, and then use the barrel to lift her neck up to meet my cold eyes. "You answer me when I'm talking to you," I say. I hear Commander Abbott chuckle as he leaves. One of the soldier's assigned to guard Madge sucks in a harsh breath.

"Yes—yes, Ga—I mean—" I press the barrel deeper into the bottom of her chin. "Yes, sir," she squeaks, sounding more mouse-like then ever before.

"Better. From now on, when I call you, you answer. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," she squeaks again. I remove the barrel from under her chin.

"Back in line, twenty-eight." She takes a few shaky steps forward. "Twenty-eight!" I scream. She turns around, fear in her eyes. My stomach twists, and suddenly I feel guilty for instating fear in her usually innocent gaze. "Soldier's walk with purpose! Do you want to be a soldier?" I ask. She nods, then rethinks the gesture and utters a weak, yes, sir. She turns, raises her head and marches into line. I hear a laugh from the line. "You find something funny?" I ask them. The laughter instantly stops. "Twenty laps," I say.

They immediately turn and start to run. Twenty laps is almost a full three miles. I know the majority of them are cursing me in their minds, but it's not my job to baby them. It's my job to turn them into soldiers.

I stand in the middle of the field, leaning lightly against the edge of the climbing wall. I put the gun back in its holster and wait for the stragglers.

"At the end of five minutes, if you're in the back you're to report for an hour of extra practice after dinner!" This threat motivates them. "Anyone not done after 30 minutes will have the same punishment." I watch as they sprint around the field, quickly growing red in the face. I glance at my watch.

"Five minutes are up!" I yell. I check to see who's in the back. Madge.

"Twenty-eight! I expect to see you after dinner!" Madge barely notices me, dragging her feet forward in a sluggish jog. "Lap!" I scream, asking for their number. All but one screams eight. Madge is on six. I suck in a breath and jog easily over to her. "What do you think this is, twenty-eight? A joke? A nice little jog? Run!" I stop as she starts sprinting again. Her arms work frantically. After ten more minutes I call for lap again. They have five minutes before their thirty minutes are up. Several of them are done. The rest of them are on lap twenty-eight or twenty-nine. Except for Madge. The rest of the soldiers finish and I count down in my head, silently urging Madge on. I don't want to punish her further. _Five…four…three…two…one._

"Time!" I call. Madge keeps running. Somewhere deep inside me, I smile, strangely proud of her determination. She finishes her laps and stops with the other soldiers on shaky legs. I see respect shining in a few of their eyes. They may not like her, but they respect her. Most new soldiers would have collapsed before fifteen, but Madge kept at it, even after I called time. I nod slightly.

"Two hours after dinner, twenty-eight. One-on-one." I allow an almost creepy smile to cross my face, reinforcing their belief that I'm the devil.

"Can't wait, sir," she huffs out. There's not a trace of sarcasm in her voice, although I know she's not in the least bit serious. I nod stiffly.

"Up the wall!" I call. I spend the next hour watching them scramble up walls and through tunnels. I smile in satisfaction as Madge somehow manages to keep going, even though I know how exhausted she must be. There's just so much determination wrapped in such a little package, something I've only seen in one other person. Katniss.

I suck in a breath and hold it in, waiting for the onslaught of memories to subside. I wonder if she's plagued with them like I am. I push the thoughts of Katniss away and focus on the training. There's no room for her in my thoughts. Not now when everything's finally starting to feel like something resembling normal.


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm going to go ahead and apologize in advance for this chapter. It's basically going to be a mish-mash of thought because I have no plans for it whatsoever. What comes out comes out so chances are it will be crappier than usual. Thank you very much for reading this and, like always, your comments and criticism are much appreciated.**

**Just a general note I came up with when I was proofing: I pronounce NUO "New-oh" instead of "N, U, O" separately. **

**Enjoy the mess!**

000

Madge's P.O.V

The sounds of the mess hall brush against me, making me nervous. I long for the solitude of my cell and the assurance of Gale's presence. I pick up my spoon and make designs in the mashed potatoes, not feeling hungry in the least. A sigh passes my lips as I glance at the silent guards on either side of me. I catch the longing look on one soldier's face as he glances in the direction of what must be a group of his friends. I want to tell him to go over to them, but restrain knowing that he would not take the comment well.

My eyes scan the crowd, searching for the one familiar and once friendly face. Gale. A small almost unnoticeable tremor shoots through me at the thought of his harsh treatment. I instantly remember his assignment to me. Extra training starting immediately after dinner. My already sore muscles scream in protest, encouraging me to ignore his order and go to bed. I push the thoughts aside and focus on my food.

I feel dozens of pairs of eyes on me, each gaze boring into me. My legs twitch with the urge to run away. I quickly check the clock on the wall. _Ten more minutes until I can leave_! The fingers of my left hand beat a rhythm against the cool tabletop. I smooth the potatoes on my plate and draw a more intricate design. The soldier to my left gives me a funny look. I smooth the potatoes over again, making a thin layer over the plate, then wrote in two letters. _FU_.

The soldier made a startled sound and I smiled lightly to myself. He started muttering profanities under his breath, but I choose to ignore him. My eyes glaze to the clock once again, seeing that only two measly minutes have passed by. I sigh and stand up, bringing my plate up to the kitchen. One of the soldiers stands to go with me. _How much damage do they think I'm capable of?_ I question. I hand the dirty plate to the man behind the counter. He has a head of startling red hair. His emerald eyes glitter with humor and kindness, something I've only seen on one other face since I've been here.

"You didn't like my potatoes?" he asks me. I feel a blush creep into my cheeks.

"I'm just not hungry." He raises his eyebrows in a way that makes me wonder if he believes me.

"My name's Arlo," he says, quickly drying his hand before holding it out to me.

"Madge Undersee," I reply, grasping his hand firmly.

"Strong grip for such a small girl," he says, undertones of surprise coloring his voice. He steals a glance at the soldier standing behind me. "Gentleman caller?" he asks, although from the glint in his eyes I can tell he knows the truth.

"He's making sure I don't make a run for it," I respond, trying my hardest not to insult the soldier.

"Does General Amatore really think you can escape with this rowdy bunch unable to take their eyes off you?" He sends a glare in the general direction of the hall. I smile at his comment, glancing back to find that several gazes have dropped from me. This immediately tells me that this man, Arlo, is well liked and respected among the army. I feel a hand firmly grasp my arm. The soldier behind me has a death grip on my bicep.

"Your training starts in five minutes," he says harshly, anger and disgust making his words sound fierce.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you it's rude to talk to a girl like that? And while we're at it, it's also considered rude to roughly grab a young lady like you're now doing," he says stealing a glance at the hand circling my arm. The soldier snarls and releases my arm. "Better. Who's your commander?" he asks me.

"Commander Gale Hawthorne. The two of us are very close. We even have pet names for each other! My nickname for him is 'sir' and he calls me 'twenty-nine'," I say with a slight sneer. Arlo chuckles softly.

"Have fun with that one, Ms. Madge. You don't want to be late for training with Gale. And don't let these soldiers get to rowdy with you. They all seem tough and calloused on the outside, but once you crack that shell their all just big balls of fluff. Including your own Commander." He winks at me and waves as I leave the hall, my two soldiers quickly assuming their posts. On my way to the fields, I consider the way Arlo talked about Gale. Arlo talked of him in a way that made me think that they were friends. I quickly dismiss the fact, knowing that Gale is much too proud to associate with the kitchen staff, a trait I thoroughly detest about him.

The air outside is startlingly cool. The thin shirt I'm wearing gives no warmth and goose bumps immediately break out on my skin. It must be at least ten degrees cooler then it was before. I can see my breath around me, a thin white cloud that quickly dissipates into the air, only to be quickly followed by another. Gale is already standing on the fields, wrapped in a warm looking jacket.

"Soldiers, your dismissed," he says to my guards. They nod briefly and hurry away, glad to be rid of me and out of the cold I presume. "Good evening, twenty-nine," he says. I bite the inside of my lip. A foreign sort of rage starts burning in me as he calls me by this name. The fire creeps into my head, blurring my eyes and begging me to speak. I push it down, knowing that any sign of resistance will not be tolerated.

"Good evening to you too, sir." I bow my head in respect, a motion I was taught long ago by my mother. When I glance back up, I see laughter playing in his eyes. If had been a mere twenty-four hours ago, I would have been bold enough to ask him what he found so funny, but now all signs of friendship seem to have been erased. A slight shiver wracks my body.

"Ten laps," he says as a response.

"Yes, sir," I say, working to make the statement sound as respectful as possible. I start running, my footsteps echoing loudly in the silence. The grass does little to muffle the sounds of the awkward pounding of my boots. After only three laps, my breathing is harsh, my lungs are burning from the cold air, and my legs are trembling with exhaustion. After five laps, Gale stops me. At first, I'm relieved, and then I see what he's holding in his hands. A backpack. He lowers it over my shoulders and I nearly collapse under the added weight.

"We'll start you off with thirty pounds," he says. I huff out a "yes sir", and finish off my laps. My calves are burning by the time I'm done. Sweat drips down my face, only serving to further freeze me, and make me long for a long warm bath, something I haven't had the luxury of in months. He ushers me over to a seven-foot tall wall, the shortest of the ones on the fields. It's made of pieces of wood nailed together so that only a centimeter or two of space stands between each one. Gale tells me it's by far the easiest of the walls to climb.

Still carrying the backpack, I jump, reaching for the top, my fingers skimming it. The backpack bangs painfully against the space in between my shoulder blades. I hear him laugh at my pathetic effort. A dark part of me longs to slap that arrogant look off his face.

Eventually he takes pity on me and shows me how it's done. He grips onto the seams between the slats of wood with his fingertips. He uses the useless looking spaces between the boards and quickly boosts himself over the edge, dropping down to the ground on the other side.

"Your turn," he says. I take a deep breath, rubbing my hands together to warm them. I try to follow his method, managing to climb up a few feet. Once my hands and upper body are over the edge, I attempt to use my arms to propel myself up the rest of the way. My arms give under my weight and I drop to the ground, the fall forcing the wind out of my lungs. Whatever he put into the backpack to give it weight dug into my shoulders, making them ache. I turn to my side, gasping for air. Gale runs over to me, a pained expression on his face.

"Are you alright?" he asks. I try to answer but can't get in enough air to create words. I nod instead. His arms gently grab mine and help me into a sitting position. He eases the pack off my back and helps me stand. My breathing comes in harsh gasps. "Look at me," he says. I meet his stormy grey eyes. "Breathe in," I take a fast intake of breath quickly releasing it. "Slowly," he says his voice gentle. My chattering teeth make it hard to focus, but I do as he says. He shrugs his jacket off his shoulders and wraps it around mine. Slowly, the ache in my lungs starts to subside along with the shiver. His hands remain on my shoulders, their warmth doing more to cease the incessant chattering then his jacket.

"Thank you," I whisper, pulling his jacket off me and handing it to him. He tugs it back on and quickly shoves his hands into the pockets.

"That's enough for today," he says. "Go inside and get warm. I'll bring you some hot chocolate from the kitchen." I cock my head to the side and give him a curious look. "What?" he asks. I consider asking him about his sudden change in attitude towards me then decide against it.

"Nothing," I respond.

"Actually," he says, "I should probably go with you. I'm sure General Amatore won't take too kindly to me allowing you roam the halls on your own." He leads the way into the building. The second the doors close behind me, cutting out the chill, I feel my body start to thaw. I curl my fingers in on themselves, tucking my arms across my stomach so my fists are resting on my hips.

We walk in silence, although it's not uncomfortable. I guess it's because of our natures. Both of us prefer solitude, not feeling that unnecessary need to fill silence with meaningless words. For that, I'm glad. I don't know what I can say to him. Once he drops me off at my room, he radios for a group of soldiers to take up my watch while he runs to the kitchen. I sit on my bed and wrap a blanket over my shoulders, the last of the cold leaving its hiding place in my bones. I hear a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," I said. Gale opens the door, two steaming mugs in his hands. He hands me one and I immediately wrap my fingers around it. I take a tentative sip of the liquid, pleased to find it just as delicious as I remembered. It tastes impossibly sweet compared to the tasteless meals I've become use to. Gale sits on a chair in the corner of the room his ankle crossed over his knee and a mug in his hands.

"When do you want me to make up the time I missed?" I ask him.

"I don't. As far as everyone's concerned, you already made them up." He smiles at me, briefly meeting my eyes then turning away. My first thought is a question. _Why is he allowing this punishment to go un-served?_ From what I've seen of him as a commander, I can tell he doesn't let anything slide. My next thought revolves around hope. _ What if it's because he likes me? _My last thought is full of self-loathing. _He's doing it because he feels bad for you._ My inner thoughts wage a silent war against each other, each fighting for dominance, all coming out defeated.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask him, wanting to know the truth of his motive. A faint trace of color makes its way into his cheeks. He sips his drink, seemingly avoiding my question.

"Because, the punishment was truly undeserved. I only did it because the other soldiers expected me to. And because I think you've suffered enough for a first day and won't force more training on you." I look at him, a truly astounded expression on my face. "What?"

"You—I mean…today you we're…and…I don't know how to say it," I finish lamely.

"Madge, you know—"

"There, right there. What did you call me?"

"Madge. That's your name, right?" The humor in his eyes tells me he's joking, but I'm not trying to be funny right now.

"Exactly. You called me Madge. That's my name. Not twenty-nine. Madge. And that's why I'm surprised." His eyes widen as I talk to him.

"You thought…actually I don't know what you thought. What did you think?" I wring my hands, choosing to focus on them instead of Gale. I feel a familiar warmth spread across my cheeks, telling me that I'm turning bright red. When I speak, it's in a hushed tone.

"I thought that once you figured out I'm your soldier, you stopped liking me. You thought that it was okay to show kindness to a prisoner…or something, but associating with someone of a lower rank then you…well, I guess I thought—"

"That I'm an ass and I wouldn't even think of being friends with someone of a lower rank. Pity, now that's alright. People understand pity. But befriending a cadet? You assumed I think that's unthinkable. Right?" His face, which was seconds ago full of light and laughter, has turned into a hard mask, not an ounce of emotion shining through.

"It's just…oh, I don't know!" I say, utterly exasperated. "Back when I was just known as 'the mayor's daughter' I was use to being overlooked. I was like my father's accessory to most people. Just like you and your gun. People are used to seeing it and eventually it becomes so common that it's overlooked. I was 'Ms. Undersee' because no one cared enough to learn my name. They only cared that my father was important, and I was his daughter and therefore should be respected. I was a pawn for them. 'Be nice to his daughter and he'll like you more.' For most of my life, I had lots of friends. Back then I didn't know they only played with me because their fathers asked them too. Eventually I did figure it out, so I distanced myself from everyone and let myself stop caring. So I became invisible and that was fine with me because invisibility is better than being ignored.

"And then 12 was destroyed and all I wanted was invisibility and I got my wish. Nobody cared, nobody even noticed what a desperate situation I was in. I was used for months and in those months, I grew to distrust people. And now I'm safe. I'm in this amazing place, you're here, and you're a friendly face so I consider myself lucky. I don't want to be invisible anymore. So I guess when you started calling me 'twenty-nine' I just assumed." I take a deep breath and lower my hands, which were just wildly waving in the air. I'm all too aware that I just went off on a rant and feel my face heat up. Gale looks like he's trying to hide his astonishment under a layer of calm.

"Assumed what?" he asks quietly. A silent tear rolls down my face at the sound of the kindness in his voice. Even after all these months, I haven't found a single soul to whom I could talk to like this. But here, sitting in front of me in the form of a strong, stormy eyed boy is what I've been longing for. A confidante.

"That you were happy to think I'm invisible That you were just another person who didn't care. Didn't care what my name is. Didn't care what I've been through. Didn't care that my nights are plagued with terror. Didn't care—"

"Madge," he says. "Your name is Madge Undersee. I care what you've been through. I care and I don't want you to have to deal with it alone. I have nightmares to, and am more than happy to share the stories with you. I _do_ care Madge. I promise. I care."

"Then why—"

"Because it took me forever to gain the respect I get from my fellow soldiers. If I were to show them that my soft spot is a prisoner then I would lose all that respect. My job, as much as I detest the thought, is to teach you how to fight. So I call you twenty-nine because I don't want to single you out, even though all I want to do is to single you out. I've been to war, Madge. And it sucks. You can't be weak if you want to fight, so I show my soldiers how to be strong. If you're going to be a NUO then I need to make you strong too." The silence that followed was in such contrast to the silence before. I felt the intense need to fill it with something that would pacify the situation. Or maybe something that would finally get all this emotional baggage that's been oppressing me for months out in the open. Or even the stuff that's been sitting there for years and has only just resurfaced.

"I'm sorry I called you an arrogant idiot." A small smile twisted his lips.

"I don't seem to recall you calling me an 'arrogant idiot.'"

"Then I'm sorry for thinking you're an arrogant idiot. You're not." His smile grows.

"Well then, I guess I'll take it as an apology and except it. I'm sorry for calling you a high strung bitch." I roll my eyes, immediately catching on.

"And I don't seem to remember you calling me a 'high-strung bitch.'"

"What do you mean? I just did." I pick up the pillow lying beside me with my right hand, being careful not to spill my cocoa, and throw it at him. I miss him by a few feet. "Attempting to assault a superior." He made a _tsk_-ing sound. "I might have to report you for that." I wrinkle my nose in disgust.

"You wouldn't dare," I say. My relief at the return of our normal banter is immediate. The tension that had been building in my shoulders is immediately released.

"Try me," he responds. I sip at my drink, attempting to hide amusement. I see as his smile falls. "Did you really think I thought I was above talking to someone I out-ranked?" I feel my cheeks flush.

"Yeah," I say softly.

"Then I think I need to introduce you to someone. Come with me." He walks towards the door, not bothering to check if I'm following. He seems to assume I'm going to.

"What if I don't want to?" I ask. He turns on his heels, his empty cup swinging from the tips of his fingers. I place mine beside my bed.

"What if I make that an order?"

"Are you going to be constantly pulling rank?" I ask. He feigns consideration.

"Yeah. Definitely." I roll my eyes and follow him out of the room. I try to keep up with his fast pace, his long legs moving much faster than my short ones.

"Where are we going?" I ask. He turns his head to look at me, not slowing his pace. I speed to a jog so that I'm next to him.

"It's a secret," he says giving me an almost unnoticeable wink. I bite my lip, hard, using the pain to send a message to my heart. _Stop beating so fast. It gets obnoxious after awhile._ I take a deep breath and the incessant pounding slows. He leads me through the familiar path to the mess hall. I assume this is where we're going, but he passes the door. We walk around a corner and he stops in front of a door I've never seen before. He opens it for me. I walk through, surprised to find we're in the kitchen. I shoot him a look, the major expression on my face being shock. He looks slightly amused as he grabs my arm and pulls me over to a tall man with bright red hair. Arlo. Gale taps his shoulder and he immediately turns. A huge grin spreads over his face as he takes in the sight of us.

"Well, well," he says with a wicked grin. "What do we have here?"

"Knock it off Arlo. This is—"

"I know, Gale. We've already met." Gale's eyes bug out, the expression on his face something I've never seen before. I force the laughter bubbling in my throat down.

"You—"

"At dinner tonight. This fine lady was escorted by a very rude gentleman. Honestly, Gale. Don't you teach your cronies how to respect a lady?" Gale appears not to process this comment, still working on wrapping his mind around the concept that I've met Arlo, something which I can't understand. What did he expect? That I only spoke to him?

"Well, then," he finally says, the tone of his voice showing what an awkward position he seems to have found himself in. I can no longer hold the laughter that's been threatening me and it bursts out. Arlo starts laughing with me, which only causes the bewildered expression on Gale's face to grow, which, in turn, makes us laugh harder. He looks between the two of us, his bewilderment quickly turning into annoyance.

"You find this funny?" he asks, his lips curled in a half smile. I take a deep breath in an attempt to control the incessant giggling. Arlo walks over and slaps him on the back.

"Of course we do, Gale. Not much for entertainment here. Seeing you, seemingly calm, controlled Gale who thinks he's God, startled at something as simple as me talking to your little girlfriend…that's funny!" The word "girlfriend" helps stop my laughter, although it does not wipe the smile off my face.

"Sorry, Gale. He's right. And that look on his face," I say turning to Arlo. He mimics the face perfectly setting off the laughter again. This time Gale joins in. I lean against the stove, the laughter making my knees weak. I grasp the stitch in my side. In normal situations, I wouldn't find it nearly as funny as I do now, but these aren't normal situations. After months of hardship, anything can seem funny. I've been longing for the light feeling that comes with laughing until you can't breathe, and finally I've gotten it. Our laughter slowly dies down and Gale starts to search for the shreds of his dignity.

"Well, I guess I better properly introduce you. Arlo, this is Madge. Madge, this is my best friend, Arlo." My eyebrows shoot up. I look at him in surprise. I knew they must be friendly with each other, considering he allows Arlo to call him by his first name, but I never imagined Gale would describe him as his best friend.

"He shows up every morning before the sun and begs for a cup of coffee. To pay me for my kindness he helps me what needs to be done in the kitchen." Gale smiles at him and turns his gaze to me.

"See. I told you I wasn't a total ass."

"He just likes you because you feed him," I tell Arlo. His face breaks into a brilliant smile and he grabs my shoulder affectionately. I force myself not to shy away from the contact, un-used to it after so many months alone.

"I can tell we're going to be great friends," Arlo tells me. "You're welcome in the kitchen anytime. Especially if it's only to harass this hot shot," he says nudging Gale in the side with his elbow.

"Thank you. I may have to take you up on that."

"It'd be a pleasure." Gale sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Come on, I should be getting you back to your room before I lose _all_ my dignity."

"Too late," Arlo mutters under his breath. I bite my lip in an attempt to hide my amusement, knowing that Gale's ego may not be able to stand another hit. He seems unaffected though, his own lips twisted into an amused smile. He says a quick goodbye to Arlo then brings me back to my room. On the way, he radios a pair of guards. They're already standing outside my door when I arrive.

"I'll see you tomorrow, soldier," Gale says. His stormy eyes meet mine. They're colored with amusement and affection, something that warms my heart. But there's also that emotion that always lingers in his gaze. An impenetrable sadness that never seems to leave him. Even in the middle of a fit of laughter, the sadness remains in his gaze. Unending. Uncontrollable. Untouchable.

As I whisper my own goodbye to him, I resolve myself to take on a near impossible task. One that is sure to result in heartache. His sad eyes leave mine and I promise myself that some way, somehow, I will tear down the walls he's built for himself and take that heartbreaking sadness away from his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry it took such an obnoxiously long time to update. It's been hell week (A.K.A Tech Week) and I've had performances as well. Not to mention a butt load of community service. So I'm sorry for the delay. Here's the chapter!**

**oOo**

**Madge's P.O.V**

_ The ceiling is divided into 132 squares. There are 56 screws on the bureau. The floor is made up of exactly 80 tiles. It's been 5,634 seconds since I last counted the tiles on the ceiling. _ I roll over, stopping my maniacal counting and glance at the clock. _And it's been 4 hours and 47 minutes since I last saw Gale_. I groan and roll on my back, throwing my arm over my eyes and trying once again to fall asleep.

Haunting images cloud my mind once again and I stand up, shaking my head. _One, two, three, four_…

"Screw this," I mutter to myself. I throw my door open, startling the guards. They stand rigidly, blocking my path. "I need to take a walk."

"We were instructed not to let you leave the room."

"What am I going to do? Run away? At night? With my entire body aching? And two guards who refuse to let me out of their sight? How do you think I'll get away? Where do you think I'll run to?"

"We were instructed not to let you leave the room."

"I heard you the first time. I can't sleep. I need to take a walk." The guards exchange a glance. One of them nods and waves for me to follow them. "Thank you." I walk slightly in front of them, winding through the halls. I push open the front door, walking into the freezing night and letting the freezing air calm my frayed nerves. The stone is cold against my bare feet. The guards behind me grumble to each other about the cold but I tune them out. On the edge of one building is a ladder that leads to the roof.

"What's this?" I ask the guards. They shrug, obviously too cold to be interested. I allow my curiosity to overtake be and climb to the top. They grudgingly follow me. I peek over the edge and see someone standing on the roof. I was about to climb down when he turns around. Gale. I pull myself over the edge. My guards follow quickly behind me. Gale walks over to them and they leave after a short conversation. He turns and returns to where he was when I first saw him. I go to the other side of the roof, allowing him his space.

"Come over here," he says quietly. I make my way over to him and stand beside him. The view below us is spectacular. We must be at the edge of the base because we're looking over empty land, unscathed by human influence. The wilderness is washed out in the moonlight, making the land look like it's all black, white, and shades of grey. I stare at it, unable to tear my eyes away from the beauty. "I can't sleep," he says.

"Me neither."

"Whenever I close my eyes, I see people die." I feel myself start to shiver. Gale starts to take off his jacket but I stop him by putting a hand on his arm. He looks at me for a second, and then looks back at the view that has me enraptured. "I wish we could go back," Gale says. "I want it to be the way it was before Katniss's name was called. Even if it means we still have the Hunger Games." I can't help but agree with him. I miss my family with an ache so deep that it's all I can feel.

"I know." I feel his gaze on me, but I refuse to meet his eyes.

"You're freezing," he says. It's not a question. I don't acknowledge him at all. "Do you miss it?"

"What?"

"District 12." I laugh humorously.

"All the time."

"Do you want to go back?" he asks.

"I can't."

"Why not?" He's leaning against the edge of the building now, his hip propped up against the wall, his eyes studying me. I keep my gaze on the distant mountain range.

"Because it's not my home anymore."

"Where is your home?" he asks. I try to think of someplace, _any_place, I could call home.

"I don't have one," I finally answer. We lapse back into silence, him studying me, me studying stars, trying to find answers to my unanswerable questions in their ancient light. I can tell he's trying to find some way to comfort me, but we both know there is no comfort in our situation. He places a careful hand on my shoulder. I take in a deep breath and hold it, unwilling to look in his eyes for fear of what I'll see there. I drop my eyes down to my calloused hands. He pulls on my shoulder lightly, turning me to him. He puts two of his fingers under my chin, pushing it upwards and forcing me to look at him. His dusty eyes are silver in the glare of the moon. I can see the apology in his eyes as I study them. He pulls me against him and hugs me tight. I grasp onto him, feeling tears well in my eyes.

_How can he be so stoic? So controlled?_ _Everything is over. All normalcy has been forgotten. _I long for school and boring dinners and being unknown more than I ever have before.

"How do you do it?" I ask, my voice wavering.

"Do what?" he asks, pressing his lips against the top of my head. A shiver passes through me that has nothing to do with the cold weather.

"Stop caring." His chest shakes with laughter.

"I don't. I can't." I hug him closer, needing his warmth to comfort me. He gently pulls me away from him and holds my face between his warm hands. He wipes my tears away with his thumb. "I wish I could make your pain go away," he whispers almost inaudibly.

"And I wish I could take away yours." I feel trapped here, lost in the endless sadness hidden in his grey eyes. I can see a battle being fought within him, one very similar to the one being fought inside myself. I want to kiss him. I want the feel of his lips on mine and his reassurance that everything's going to be okay, even though I know it never will. Time is suspended between us as we fight ourselves over the one thing we both want. I touch his hand with mine, silently willing him to make this horrible uncertainty go away. He leans forward and touches his forehead to mine.

"Madge," he whispers. I touch the tip of my frozen nose to his.

"Gale." His hands cup my waist.

"We can't." he whispers, his sweet warm breath washing over my face.

"I know." He doesn't let go of me and I can't step away.

"We shouldn't."

"I know."

"I—I—" his lips are so close to mine. I can feel them move with his murmured words. His hand slowly trails up my back leaving a trail of fire in its wake. It stops on my neck. His fingers play with my loose hair. His grey eyes, that are staring so deeply into mine, are clouded with uncertainty. _Katniss_, I suddenly remember. _He can't forget Katniss._ _ It's always going to be Katniss_. _It will never be me. _ I press a fist against his chest.

"Gale," I say, taking a step back. His hands fall away from me, leaving me shivering once again. I shake my head. I spread my fingers out and stare at them, trembling against the fabric of his shirt. I back away unable to think with him standing so close to me. "I can't. You—you love Katniss. And me…well I'm just someone to bide the time until she comes back. You don't want this. Not like I do."

"What do you mean?" Wild reckless emotion boils in me. _Just do it_.

"Gale. Gale, Gale, Gale, Gale, Gale," I shake my head and saying his name because I love the feel of the word on my tongue. "I thought you were supposed to be the observant one. The ultimate hunter. But you're so blind. I've loved you since…since I don't even know. I've loved you _forever_. And you've been too caught up with Katniss to even notice. And now you're here and I'm here and you're acting like you care. But I know tomorrow I'm going to wake up and nothing will have changed." He stares at me and I know I've just dropped a bomb. I hastily wipe the tears from my face, hating that I'm crying in front of him. I smile and back away, turning with a subtle shake of my head and climb down the ladder.

I hear his near-silent steps behind me as I walk to my room and for a second my heart feels with hope. But no. He's following me because he's a good soldier and I'm not supposed to be alone. I throw open the door and storm down the halls. Anger courses through me, hot, heavy, and unlike anything I've ever felt before. I throw open my door, pushing the guards out of the way, and slamming the door shut behind me. I lean against the wall under the window, soaking in the chill from the concrete.

_What did you expect_? I asked myself. _A declaration of his love? Denial that he'd ever loved Katniss?_ No. Of course not. This is real life. The prince, well, he doesn't have a white horse and he never saves the day.

**oOo**

The next morning I wake up on the floor. The cold of the tiles had soaked into my bones, making me stiff and sore. I stand and stretch away the stiffness. I look down at my rumpled, tear-stained clothes and immediately rip them off, not wanting even the most miniscule reminder of yesterday. I pull a new pair of fatigues on and open the door, heading for the mess hall.

The first person I see is Arlo. I feel a strange wave of relief and head over to the counter. His eyes meet mine and I see them cloud with sympathy.

"He told you," I say. Arlo nods slowly. "Of course he did." I turn to storm away and run right into someone. I fall onto the floor. A hand reaches down to help me up. I reach up to take it. And then I see who it belongs to. Gale. _What did I do that gave me such bad karma?_ I yank my hand back and push myself up.

"Madge," he says, his eyes relaying the same sympathy Arlo's did.

"_Don't_ feel sorry for me."

"I don't."

"You do. I can see it in your eyes." He doesn't deny it, but that doesn't matter. I already knew I was right.

"Can I talk to you?"

"Talk all you want. Doesn't mean I'm going to listen."

"Madge!" he says, catching my shoulder as I walk away. "I don't want to order you to talk to me, but I will if I have to."

"Pulling rank on me now, _Commander_?" I sneer. He bristles at that. I'm honestly surprised I haven't been punched yet.

"Only if I have to," he answers stonily.

"Well, I'm not going to come willingly."

"Then come with me Madge. That's an order," he says, his voice emotionless.

"Yes, Commander Hawthorne," I say, wiping the sarcasm from my voice. I can play that game too. He leads me out into the halls, through the corridors and into a section I've never seen before. He opens a door and motions for me to go in.

The inside of the room is about the size of mine. The color scheme is the same too; all white. In one corner is a white desk covered in perfectly ordered papers. There's another door which I assume is a closet. The only other thing in the room is a bed, which is made with military precision.

"These are your quarters," I say. He nods. "They don't let you decorate?" I ask, looking around the barren room with distaste.

"They do." I give him a pointed glance then wave my hand in a motion indicating his room. "My quarter's are fine." I say nothing to that, noting the warning tone in his voice. "What you said yesterday—"

"Well let's not beat around the bush," I interject, not wanting to hear what he has to say.

"Let me talk." He looks agitated, his hand grasping his hair as he silently paces. He stops and looks at me. "What you said yesterday…it was out of line."

"I guess that's one way to describe it." His icy glare shuts me up.

"But you're right." Okay. That surprised me. "All I ever think about is Katniss and I should never have done what I di—what I almost did." My blood turns to ice.

"Is that all?" I ask, my voice breaking. I take in a deep even breath and meet his eyes.

"No. Not even close." I move to lean against the wall, assuming a bored expression while my mind works furiously to come up with what he wants to tell me. "Katniss…Katniss is gone." I say nothing, standing up and paying (if possible) even closer attention. "I should know that by now. She has Peeta and District 12 and a whole team of people to support her and she doesn't need, or want, me." He sits down on his bed and puts his head in his hands. The vulnerable slant of his shoulders hurts my heart. Despite my anger, I want to comfort him. To let him know he's not completely alone in this world.

"She only loved me when I was hurting, and I'm hurting so much right now and she doesn't have the time to love me. But all this has—_everything _has happened to you, and you still…well you used to feel _something_. God, this sucks." He runs his hands through his head, gripping his hair.

"Gale…"

"Let me finish." He leans over and picks up a notebook. He hands it to me. "I couldn't sleep last night, so I thought. And then I wrote it down." I take the notebook and flip it open. His careful, yet messy, penmanship scars the page. I scan the title.

_What I would do for Katniss. _ My heart drops to my stomach.

"I don't want to read this."

"Yes. You do." I scan the list. It's surprisingly short. "Turn the page." I listen to him. _What I would do for Madge._ The first thing on the list? _Die_. I flip back and compare the lists, finding that mine is much longer.

"Gale—" I say, my voice breaking. He stands up and pulls me too him, burying his face in my hair.

"I don't know what this is. I don't know what it means. This whole thing is scaring me to death. But I don't want you to think I'm using you, because I'm not. I thought I was at first, but I realized I'm really not. I want to be with you. All the time." He gently pulls me away and cups my face with his hand. He presses his warm lips to mine. I loop my arms around his neck and play with his soft hair. The kiss ends way too soon. I press my first two fingers to his neck, searching for his pulse. It's strong, even.

"What are you doing?" he whispers.

"Making sure this is all real." He kisses me again, stronger this time. Fire shoots through me, burning through my lips, trailing down my neck and warming me right to the tips of my toes. I rock up onto the balls of my feet and deepen the kiss, all of my self-control lost. I feel him smile.

"I promise you, Madge. This is real."


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the wait on this chapter. This one goes out to Integrity21. Thanks for reading and reviewing =)**

**I'm looking for a beta for this story. If you're interested, leave me a review or send me a message. Thank you!**

**0O0**

"Run!" Gale screams from the center of the track. I pick up my pace, moving from a jog to a run. I turn the corner and sprint the last quarter mile. I finish off the set and stop, my hands on my knees and my breath violently rushing in and out of my lungs.

"Nice, Madge," Gale says, with a smile. I look around and realize I'm among the first to finish.

"Thanks, Commander." It had been one week since Gale had shown me the list. Since then we had spent every free moment together, staying up on the roof into the late hours of the night. Every morning I woke up to find Gale waiting outside my door, waiting to take me to the Mess Hall.

A few days ago, General Amatore decided that I didn't need the full time security, considering I'm basically a non-issue, and downgraded me to a single guard. Gale immediately volunteered.

"When you're done you can take a water break," he yells out. I make my way over to the cooler along with a few other cadets.

"Hey, Undersee!" one shouts. I turn my head at the sound of my name. "Are you the one that's got Commander Hard-Ass in a good mood?" he asks. I tilt my head to the side in confusion. "You're the one…you know…"

"Fucking him," another interjects. Breathy laughter explodes through the troops. I feel my cheeks flare up and turn to see if Gale has heard them. If he heard the cadet's comments, then he's choosing not to comment. Someone hands me a cup and I quietly thank them. I pour water from the jug into my cup and hurriedly chug it.

"Undersee!" I keep my shoulders squared and make my way forward. "Un-der-see!" the same soldier shouts, exaggerating each syllable. I focus my eyes on Gale, who's now looking our way.

"Soldiers! Did I say this was social hour?" he asks.

"We get it _Commander_," I hear one sneer under his breath. "You want to protect your little fuck buddy." Gale's gaze shoots to the soldier who spoke. The soldier tenses.

"_Seven!"_ he shouts, fury flowing from his every pour. The dark haired soldier shuffles over, looking small and afraid. "_Please_, tell me I heard you wrong." The soldier mutters something incomprehensible under his breath. "What?"

"No sir," the soldier says. Gale cocks his head to the side as if he couldn't hear him. "No sir!" he screams.

"Twenty laps. You're all going to be working well into your dinner hour. You can thank your good friend Seven for that." Groans echo through the crowd. We all hustle back onto the track and resume our running.

**0O0**

I place my head on the cool table, waiting for my breathing to steady. Gale sits next to me and places a plate of food near my head and one of his large warm hands on my back.

"Too. Hot." I mutter. He removes his hand and replaces it with a chilled bottle of water. I give a contented sigh as he runs it up and down my spine. I turn my head to look at him. "I'd thank you but it's your fault to begin with."

"Hey. I was defending your honor," he says. I roll my eyes.

"Next time could you leave my honor alone? Please. My aching body is begging you." He laughs and places the water bottle on the table, cracking it open. I sit up, taking a long sip and pulling my dinner in front of me. I dig into the meal, filling myself to the brim with warm food. When I'm done, I push the bowl away from me.

"What do you want to do tonight?" he asks me.

"Talk to you. Be with you," I answer without hesitation. He smiles at me, something that he's been doing more recently. I smile at his happiness.

"Where?" I consider this for a minute, thinking through each of the options. There's the rec room, but that's always filled with cadet's and as a general rule, ranking officers are not exactly welcome. Then there's the officer's loft, but as a general rule, cadet's aren't welcome there. Then there's the roof, a place considered too cold and out of the way for most people to bother going. My decision quickly becomes easy.

"The roof." He smiles again and helps me up. I stand on trembling legs, clutching onto Gale's arm.

"Are you okay?" he asks me.

"A little shaky," I answer. I let go of his arm, grab my plate and head over to the window. We say a quick hello to Arlo then head out. We weave through the network of hallways, quickly making our way out, stopping only at Gale's room to grab two jackets. When he opens the outer door and the chill immediately cuts through me. He grabs my hand and pulls me closer. I press my shoulder into him, trying to take in some of his body heat.

Halfway to our rooftop getaway, my legs give out.

"Are you alright?" he asks instantly, kneeling beside me. I rub my exhausted legs, the muscles weak and twitching under my finger tips. Gale instantly sees what I'm seeing and copies my movements.

"I'm fine," I say, exhaustion dripping from my every word. "Just really tired."

"You want to turn in early?"

"No!" I say too quickly. He smiles and swings me up and into his arms. I bury my face into his shoulder, feeling my cheeks flush with heat. He sets me on a patch grass and lies next to me, pulling me against his side.

"I'm sorry," he mutters against my hair.

"For what?" I ask, my eyes drooping from exhaustion as I fight unconsciousness.

"For the workout from hell."

"You're the commander. It's your job." He pulls me closer to him. I bury my freezing face in his neck, breathing in the scent of him.

"Are the other cadet's giving you crap?" he asks me.

"Don't worry about it," I say placing my hand over his heart. It beats strong and steady beneath my palm.

"Of course I'm going to worry about it," he says placing his hand over mine. I slide my head down so my ear is against his chest. I can hear his heartbeat echoing within his chest. "It's my job to worry about things," he says, his words vibrating in his chest.

"Gale, you worry about _everything_. Let me be the one thing you _don't _have to worry about."

"You're the only thing I want to worry about." I sigh and push myself closer against him. I close my eyes and feel myself quickly drifting off to sleep.

**0O0**

Madge's quiet, steady breathing is my first indicator that she's asleep. I pull her closer to me for a second, trying to memorize the feeling of her sleeping body against me. Gently, I shift out from under her, not wanting to wake her up. I lift her into my arms, trying not to jostle her, and head for the front door.

I get several dirty looks as I pass through the crowded halls, Madge's sleeping form in my arms, her head resting against my shoulder. I quickly debate where to go; my room or hers. I decide on mine because it's closer and because I know where the key is. I awkwardly shift her to pull out my key and unlock the door.

She makes quiet hurt sounds as she sleeps, like she's having a nightmare she can't awake from. I lie her down on my bed and cover her with the blanket. Softly, I push away the strands of hair that hang in her face. Her skin is soft and smooth under my fingertips. She sighs, the sound breaking the quiet. I want to lie down beside her, but my insomnia won't allow it.

Instead I pull out the designs Beetee gave me this afternoon and start working on modifying them. The steady sound of Madge's breath becomes a soundtrack. Every once in a while, I glance at her, unable to resist the urge to make sure she's safe, even though I know there's no way anything could have happened to her.

At around four, I decide to see what Arlo's up to. I quietly slip out of the door, locking it. When I walk in the kitchen Arlo looks surprised to see me.

"Gale! You look like hell." I glare at him, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

"Thank you, Arlo," I say sarcastically.

"I'm assuming you didn't sleep well."

"I didn't sleep at all." He looks at me, raising his eyebrows suggestively. I wrinkle my nose at him in disgust. "Get your mind out of the gutter." He turns back to the potatoes he's chopping as I hurriedly chug down my coffee. I pick up a knife and start chopping onions.

"How's Madge?" he asks with a smirk.

"I'm holding a knife," I say. He laughs at my threat and changes the topic. For the next hour we talk and chop and cook. At six, I say goodbye to Arlo and head back to my room.

**0O0**

When I wake up, I'm in an unfamiliar room. A room with four bright white walls. And no personality. Gale's room.

I sit up and look around. No Gale. The suns just rising over the horizon so I'm guessing it's around six in the morning. I get up and peek out the door staring down the empty hall. Where's Gale? I sit down on the bed and look at the boring white walls. This is _the_ most un-stimulating room I've ever been in. A few minutes later the door opens and Gale walks in.

"Hey!" I say cheerily.

"Hey," he says with a smile. I study his face, noticing the bags under his eyes. He sits on his desk chair and looks at me. His smile broadens.

"How did you sleep?" I ask.

"Fine," he says briefly, not daring to meet my eyes.

"You're lying."

"That's because I don't want to worry you," he says in a ridiculously high pitched voice, a clear imitation of me.

"You're the only thing I want to worry about," I say in a poor imitation of his voice. He leans back, putting his hands behind his head.

"Are you mocking me, Ms. Undersee?" I cock my head to the side in fake innocence.

"Me, Commander? I would never even think such a thing!" He stands up and stands over me. I look at him, curious as to what he's doing.

"I think you're taunting me." I smirk.

"And if I am?" He grabs my arms and pulls me up. I stand in front of him with my hands on his shoulders, feeling the heat as it rolls off his body. He slides his right hand up my arm and to my cheek. His thumb softly traces my jaw line. His other hand rests on my waist and he pulls me closer. My breath catches in my throat. He leans forward his lips millimeters away from mine, his warm breath brushing against my face.

"Madge," he whispers. I slide my hands down his chest, feeling his strong muscles beneath my hands and close my eyes. Suddenly he pulls away. I blink in surprise, feeling disoriented. "Don't taunt me," he says with a smirk. I give him a look.

"I'm going to my room," I say, feeling unexplainably disappointed.

"Madge," he says to my back. He follows me down the hall, quickly catching up to me. "Are you really mad?"

"No," I say.

"Madge!" he says, grabbing onto my arm. I turn towards him. "I'm sorry," he says.

"Why would you—" Gale cuts me off with a kiss. "Gale—" He kisses me again. "What—" he pulls me forward and crushes his lips to mine, holding me close against him. My knees go weak and I clutch onto his shoulders, using him as support. He backs me up against a wall, trapping me with his body. His hands come up to cup my face and mine slide from his shoulders down his back. He gently pulls back, his lips faintly touching mine.

"I forgive you," I gasp, my heart hammering in my chest.

"Good," he responds, pressing his lips firmly against mine.

"Should we be doing this out here?" I mutter.

"Shut up," he whispers. "Just let me enjoy kissing you." He slides his hands down to my waist, looping them around me and pulling me closer to him. I lock my arms around his neck, not wanting a single inch of skin not touching him.

"Commander Hawthorne!" a booming, male voice yells. We quickly break apart. My heart slams against the walls of my chest, my entire body still tingling after that mind-blowing kiss.

"General Amatore!" Gale says, correcting his posture. "Sir."

"Come with me Commander. It looks like we have some things to talk about. Cadet, to your room."

"Yessir," I say. Gale discreetly brushes his hand against mine as I hurry away.


	7. Chapter 7

"Take a seat," General Amatore says as we walk into his office. I pull out a chair and sit across from him. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. I can feel the anger radiating off of him. "Commander Hawthorne. _Please_ tell me you have an _excellent_ reason for what I just saw." I clear my throat.

"No sir," I mutter.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't have a good reason," I say louder.

"Do you fully understand what you just did? I've been getting complaints all week about your relationship with Soldier Undersee." I feel my eyes widen and try to hide it. "It is incredibly inappropriate to have one of our best Commanders..._fraternizing_ with a criminal in—"

"She's not a criminal," I say jumping up. "We had the trial!"

"And we decided that she should be watched. I thought I could trust you with that job, but apparently I can't."

"General—"

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kick you out right now," General Amatore says, his booming and powerful voice showing me exactly why he was chosen to run the base. Thoughts of losing my job start running through my head.

"I need this job," I say meeting his eyes. He opens a door in his desk and pulls out a file. My file; he flips through the pages. He runs a hand over his face and loudly exhales. He picks up a sheet and examines it more closely.

"Memo to General Amatore from President Paylor," he reads. "I believe Gale Hawthorne would make an exemplary Commander. He showed bravery, intelligence, good-judgment and good-character while fighting in District 8." He puts the letter down and looks at me. I try to hide my surprise. I got a letter of recommendation from the _President_? "You are very lucky, Commander. I'm going to let you continue working here without punishment. You're credentials are too outstanding for me to consider firing you at this point, but one more…_episode_ and I will not hesitate to kick you off of this base."

"Yes sir," I say sitting down.

"I'm putting Soldier Undersee under the supervision of Commander Abbott." My blood chills. He's assigning that asshole to her? I bite my tongue to keep myself from talking but General Amatore can obviously see my indignation. "Commander. I don't think you realize how severe this situation is. One more time, _one_, and you will be stripped of your rank and reassigned and Soldier Undersee will be sent to a detention camp until a proper trial can be conducted and her innocence can be proven. If I so much as hear about you _talking_ to her, I will not hesitate to take these measures. Do you understand me?"

"Yes sir," I say, feeling shocked.

"You're dismissed." I leave the office feeling more shaken then I have in months. _What am I going to do?_ I ask myself. General Amatore has presented me with a choice. My job or Madge. Madge and I could stay together. We could be discreet and find ways to be together. My stomach rolls at the option. It goes against my every instinct to disobey a direct order like that. That leaves the second option. Stop my relationship with Madge. My stomach flips at that thought, too. I can just imagine the look on her face as I reject her. I can't hurt her like that.

I open the door to my room and sit down. I stare at the rumpled sheets Madge was sleeping in just an hour before. If we stay together then we risk the chance of being caught. I suddenly remember the second part of General Amatore's threat. Another field of possibility runs through me. If we're caught, she'll be much worse off. She'll be put in a detention camp. I remember the horror stories I've been told about that place and know I can't risk anything to put her in there. Then I'm going to have to end it. Which will hurt her. Which means I can't end it. Which will result in her being hurt.

We suffer if we separate. We suffer if we're together. It's a labyrinth of suffering. The ultimate Catch 22. Find your way out of that maze.

I can't risk her safety. Whatever I do has to be best for her. I can't risk sending her to detention camp. And I can't risk her unhappiness. I groan and lean back in my chair.

I can pretend I don't like her. I can pretend I don't care about her at all. A clean break. She'll lose me, but she'll get over it. If we stay together, we get caught and she gets sent to detention camp and we never see each other again. There's no way that could be easier. The thought of losing her is like a repeated punch in the gut.

I check my watch and see there's five minutes until breakfast. I head to the Mess Hall for a much needed cup of coffee.

**0O0**

After half an hour of frantic pacing there's a knock on the door. I open the door feeling tension roll off of me in waves. Disappointment quickly takes over as I realize its Commander Abbott. That blue-eyed bastard.

"Good morning, Soldier Undersee," he says with a cocky smile.

"Good morning, sir," I say.

"I'm your new guard," he says. My stomach drops. The knowing glint in his eyes tells me he knows how much I dislike him. "Come. We don't want to be late." _Come_, I think. _Like I'm a dog_. I follow behind him, anger churning in my stomach.

"Where's Gale?" I blurt out, unable to think of him fired or reassigned. I can feel arrogance rolling off of him in waves. Just being within ten feet of this man makes me feel sick and uneasy.

"You're little fuck buddy is no longer assigned to you. The General decided it was best if you were reassigned to my guard. He felt pretty confident that I'd do a better job." I bite my tongue, hard, cutting off an indecent comment. We enter the Mess Hall and my eyes immediately scan the area for Gale. I spot him by the counter and hurry over. "Where do you think you're going?" Abbott asks.

"To get food," I reply in my most innocent voice. He can't find fault with the comment and lets me go, but I can feel his eyes watching me.

"Morning, Madge!" Arlo says as I approach the counter. His eyes widen as he watches me approach. I give him a look accompanied by a smile. He jerks his chin, as if warning me away.

"Morning, Arlo." I turn my gaze to Gale, but he's skillfully avoiding my eyes. "Gale?" I ask. He looks up at me, his grey eyes cold and clinical. I recoil like I've been slapped. "What's wrong?" I ask. He puts on a cocky smirk, one that reminds me of Commander Abbott.

"You didn't get the memo?" he asks.

"What?"

"We're done," he says, turning away to talk to Arlo. His stance. His expression. His tone. Everything reeks of indifference.

"Gale…" I say softly, pain radiating off of my words. I watch as Gale takes a sharp intake of breath. He turns to me.

"Commander Hawthorne."

"What?"

"You're supposed to call me Commander Hawthorne. I'm not your equal." I look down at my shaking hands.

"What happened?" I ask, shock reverberating throughout my body. I look into his eyes, searching for something in them, anything that I might recognize. But all warmth and affection is gone. Just the cool grey and ever present pain.

"General Amatore helped me realize that I'm above spending time with _cadets_."

"But—but I love you," I mutter, the words feeling clumsy and ridiculous on my tongue. I feel myself blush.

"Did I ever say I loved you?" No. He didn't. "It's. Over. I didn't think you were that dumb, Madge. It's not too difficult a concept. You're new. You're easy to take advantage of. I was bored," he shrugs off-handedly. "Now I'm over it. You're back to the dull, uninteresting, wreck-of-a-girl that you were a few weeks ago." Tears blur my eyes but I refuse to cry in front of him. As I turn away from him they roll down my face, visual proof of the scars he's just created.

"Oh, Gale," I hear Arlo say and my stomach rolls. I have no friends. I have _nothing_.

**0O0**

The second her back is to me I let my shoulders slump. I feel numb.

"Oh, Gale," Arlo says, shaking his head slowly.

"I'll be in my room," I say. I pick up the coffee mug from the counter. The warmth flows from the coffee into my frozen fingers. I open the door to my barracks, not remembering how I got there, and sit at my desk. I stare out the window, watching small flakes of snow swirl down and melt on the ground. I set my alarm for seven, not trusting myself to know when training starts. I let the snow take away my thoughts. A few minutes later there's a knock on my door. I don't answer, but whoever it is doesn't seem to care. Out of nowhere, someone slaps the back of my head.

"What the—" I break off as I see Beetee, standing angrily over me. "Did I miss a deadline, or something?" I ask, trusting Beetee to have an excellent reason for hitting me.

"What did you do to that poor girl!" he demands. I blink a few times, trying to clear my mind.

"How do you know about Madge?"

"Gale. A blind man can see there's something going on between the two of you."

"No. There's not."

"There was!" the wily old man counters. I take a sip of coffee, instantly wishing it was something much stronger; something much more numbing.

"The past doesn't matter," I say. Beetee slaps me. "What the hell!"

"I saw that girl cry, Gale. You made that girl _cry_. Are you happy about that? You think that because you can't have Katniss you can go around treating girls like that? If you didn't care about her then you should have just left her alone." Beetee's angry. Very, very angry. I've never seen him so focused.

"That's not it," I blurt out. "General Amatore gave me an ultimatum. If I stay with her and he finds out he's sending her to a detention camp. I can't risk that, Beetee. I _can't_." Beetee stares at me, his eyes wide.

"Detention camp?" I nod. "That's extreme."

"He doesn't think so."

"Why did you get involved with her in the first place?" I let out a sigh, feeling exhausted.

"Because I care about her," I answer honestly.

"Do you love her?" I run my hands through my hair, wanting this whole day to be over with.

"I don't know. Maybe." He smiles.

"We can make a man of you yet, Mr. Hawthorne." I smile at Beetee, feeling honest affection for the old man.

"It doesn't matter," I say. "She doesn't want to see me again. Which is the best. For all involved." He studies me. I feel uncomfortable under his all seeing gaze.

"If you loved her, you wouldn't let her go. You'd fight for her. You have a lot of fight in you Gale. But you have a lot of trouble choosing between the right and wrong things to fight for." With those words he goes back to work, leaving me with a full head and five minutes until I'm supposed to be on the field. I hurry out, not wanting to be late. The first thing I see is Commander Abbott and Madge. I can tell Madge has gone out of her way to hide that she's been crying, but her puffy, bloodshot eyes give her away. My heart drops.

"Morning Commander Hawthorne," Abbott says. I want to punch him.

"Morning," I respond with a nod.

"Heard you got yelled at for," he clears his throat, "_associating_ with the cadet's." He didn't even try to hide his intention. I take a quick glance at Madge to gage her reaction. She's staring at her feet, her cheeks bright red. Scratch the previous comment. I want to _kill _him.

"Nothing you've never experienced," I respond in reference to his many exploits with what basically every un-married woman in the entire base. His smile dims.

"Nice to know you're making a run for my crown." My stomach rolls at the thought. "At least I know where to go if I really want to win," he says with a smirk and a look at Madge.

"Soldier Undersee," I say. She looks up at me. Her sad, innocent eyes break something in me. I fight for control.

"Yessir," she mutters.

"Start running." She nods. "That goes for the rest of you, too!" I yell out. I take a step towards Abbott and grab the collar of his shirt. "If you lay a hand on her I will personally rip you into a million little pieces and serve you to the dogs," I snarl under my breath. Abbott just smiles.

"Whatever you say Hawthorne." I give him my most chilling smile and release him. He just laughs. Because the day wasn't bad enough already.


	8. Chapter 8

**This chapter goes out to my **_**fabulous**_** beta, Integrity21. Thanks a million for getting back to me so fast. This chapter is formatted strangely to show the passage of time. Reviews, like always, are appreciated. **

**0O0**

_Week One: Madge_

Seeing Gale is inevitable. It seems that everywhere I turn, there he is, waiting for me with empty eyes and a scowl. These moments make my heart simultaneously pound in excitement and break. I go out of my way to avoid him.

One person I can't avoid is Commander Abbott. The pretentious asshole takes his duties way too seriously. I can't find a moment alone. From the moment I wake up until the moment I decide to turn in, he follows me, insulting me and degrading me the whole time. Three days after he was assigned to me, I let my anger overcome me and I told him to stop. He informed me that one more outburst and I would be sent to a detention camp. I shut up.

_Week Two: Gale_

Seeing Madge is inevitable. It seems like the world is against us. I go out of my way to avoid her; eating in the kitchen with Arlo, staying either in my room or in the officer's lounge in my free time, even skipping training one day to "work on a project" with Beetee. But the universe has a sick sense of humor and seems to get a kick out of seeing the two of us in pain. I shake myself out of my day dreaming and redirect my attention back to the field where she's running. As usual, the strength in her small frame surprises me. After only a few weeks she's already surpassing many of my other trainees.

"Come on Undersee! Is that all you have?" Abbott yells from beside me. I fist my hands at my side and try to distract myself from the urge to punch him. "Undersee!" he calls in disappointment. "Under—"

"Commander," I say, cutting him off. He turns to me his expression livid. "Can I talk to you?" He smirks.

"Lead the way." He follows me behind the main building. Once we're out of sight, I whirl on him.

"You need to stop."

"What?" he asks, trying to exude innocence but failing.

"I don't want to hear a single bad word to or about Madge."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I step forward and grab his collar, much as I did a couple weeks before.

"Do. Not. Hurt. Her."

"That's funny. I thought you were done with her. I thought she was nothing to you." I feel my muscles tense but I don't punch him because that's exactly what I want everyone to think. I let go of his collar. "I'll make sure to tell the bitch about our little conversation. I'm sure your fuck buddy will _love_ to hear—" This time I do punch him. I hear a crack as I break his nose. I use my other fist to give him a black eye. I shake out my fists, which are stinging from the impact, and walk away. Abbott comes after me and grabs my shoulder. I pin him against the wall with my forearm against his shoulders and my knee in his gut. Abbott didn't fight in the war. He stayed safe at home in District 1 while the real soldiers fought his battles for him.

"One word," I hiss, than I release him. He doesn't come after me.

_Week Three: Madge_

Commander Abbott has been acting nicer towards me lately. Suspiciously enough, it happened right after he showed up with a black eye. I have no doubt that that's the reason for his change in attitude. Not that I mind it. It's actually relieving not to be insulted all the time. In my mind it's Gale that punched Abbott. I see him in an unrealistic light, defending my honor against all those who threaten it. I laugh under my breath which earns me a look from Abbott. I turn back to my dinner and eat in silence. When I bring my plate up to the window, Arlo tries to make conversation with me again.

"Hey, Madge," he says with a smile even though he must know by now that I'm only going to ignore him. I pass his helper my plate and walk back over to Abbott, almost feeling bad for shutting him out.

_Week Four: Gale_

After five and a half hours (which included finishing a project we'd been working on for three months and an hour long therapy session) Beetee lets me go. I go straight to my room, feeling fatigue set in. Like always I pass Madge's room. I stop and look at the door, wanting to close the distance between us but knowing I can't. _I _need _to stop thinking about her_. I'm about to walk away when I hear a strange noise. I press my ear against the door and try to place the sound.

Crying. Madge is crying. _If Abbott has hurt a hair on that girls head…_ But then I stop and I think about my conversations with Beetee. What if _I'm_ the reason she's crying? A cold chill rushes down my back and I place my hand against the door, wishing I could comfort her.

_Damn Amatore. Damn Abbott_. Her crying intensifies. _Damn me_.

_Week Five: Madge_

I wake up, my eyes red and puffy from crying the night before. Lately, it feels like I've been crying every night. I quickly throw on a uniform and open the door to find the surprise of my life.

Gale.

Leaning against the wall outside my door.

Asleep.

"Commander Hawthorne," I say timidly. His eyes open and he blinks. He rubs his hand over his face and looks up. Every muscle in his body tenses. Then I see him do something I never in a million years would have thought I'd seen Gale do.

He blushes.

"Soldier. Nice to see you," he says. Standing and stretching.

"Commander," I say, feeling my own face heat up. My heart pounds against my chest and tears burn the backs of my eyes. Even after a month, being around him hurts. Just seeing him brings along a surge of memories. I refuse to let it show. "What are you doing outside my door?" I ask, feeling more confident. He clears his throat.

"Well, there's a very…logical explanation," he says, his voice faltering. "But I have to…go to a meeting," he says quickly and hurries down the hall in a very un-Gale-like manner. I smile to myself and walk down the hall.

_Week Six: Gale_

Ever since I first heard her crying, I've stopped by every night to see if she's crying. If she is, I sit by her door, waiting for her to stop while trying to silently lend her strength.

Then, after a particularly long night, I fell asleep and she caught me outside her door. But I can't stop checking on her. Arlo tells me to move on. Beetee tells me to get back with her. I don't know what to tell myself.

_Week Seven: Madge_

Gale keeps showing up. In the hallway outside my room, at the table next to mine in the Dining Hall, in the same assignments as me. I want to forget him, but how can you forget someone who's always there. A couple of days ago I was guarding the front gate. General Amatore has just started trusting me with real jobs so I've been trying to show him that I'm deserving of his trust. Gale was guarding with me. I tried to stay away from him, keeping as much distance between us as I could.

"Madge," he said, turning to me. I could feel his eyes on me but I refused to turn and look at him. "I'm sorry." He whispers it so softly I can't tell if he actually apologized or if it's all in my head. He watches me for a few more moments and I feel my eyes well with tears.

I want him back.

I can't stand being so close to him and knowing he doesn't want me.

I turn to take him in, seeing the downward slant of his shoulders and the sadness welling in his eyes. And suddenly I'm angry.

"How dare you," I whisper fiercely. His face turns shocked. "How _dare _you apologize to me?"

"Madge?"

"Soldier Undersee," I snap cruelly, thinking of how he did the same to me seven painfully long weeks before. His eyes widen so slightly I barely caught it. He returns to his job, watching the surrounding mountains. I feel a tear roll down my cheek as his words run through my head for the millionth time. _Did I ever say I loved you? It's over. _I try to clear away the dark thoughts but the conversation continues rolling through my mind. _You're new. You're easy to take advantage of. I was bored. Now I'm over it. You're back to the dull, uninteresting, wreck-of-a-girl that you were a few weeks ago. _I make a strangled sound.

Suddenly Gale's hand is resting gently, hesitantly, on my arm. I shrug out from under his touch, biting my lip in an attempt to stop my crying but it builds. The silent tears turn into painful sobs. I clutch my stomach as I gasp in a deep breath. I start hyper ventilating. Gale's hands are suddenly on my arms as he starts to slowly lower me to the ground. I let him, feeling myself panic.

"Madge!" he says and my head clears a little. "Put your head between your knees." I do as he says and my breathing slows minutely. He places his hands on my shoulders, the warmth rolling off of him. The tears don't stop and neither does the painful sobbing. I glance up at Gale, needing to see his familiar face, but it just causes my heart to flip. He pulls me against him and wraps his arms around me. He hugs me tightly and the feeling of being held starts to calm me. "You're alright," he whispers. "You're alright." I hear his heart beat. The steady rhythm gives me something to focus on. Gradually I stop my hysterics. I gently pull away from him, feeling painfully awkward but not wanting to be ungrateful.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"Go back to your room. I'll say you were here the whole time in my report." I nod and leave; my traitorous heart already missing being close to him.

_Week Eight: Gale_

I want to be with Madge. I know that now. But we can't be together, no matter how much I want that. I close my eyes and lean against the wall, not caring that every person in the hall has their eye trained on me. I have to get reassigned. For her good and mine. I have to leave this place. I start making my way to General Amatore's office.

And that's when the first bomb dropped.


	9. Chapter 9

The bomb is close. Very close. The shockwaves tear through me, one after another, shaking my world to its very core. A million things run through my head in a single second. Or maybe it was one thought a million times. Madge; I sprint down the hallways, the aftershocks making my steps uneasy. I fall against the wall and use my hand to propel me off of it. I throw open the door to the mess hall. It's dinner time so that's where she should be.

"Gale!" a voice shouts out to me; Arlo.

"Have you seen her?" I ask hysterically. I'm sure I look insane, my eyes darting wildly around the room, searching for her familiar face. Searching for Abbott because he'll know where she is. _Why am I not with her?_ Confusion briefly flits across Arlo's face before he realizes who I'm talking about.

"I haven't seen her." My heart sinks.

"At all?" A voice comes over the speakers, commanding us to follow the emergency procedure. Telling us to walk into the basement and hide like cowards. I cringe and the sound of the sound of harsh, mechanical voice.

"No," he says. I feel determination surge within me. Arlo grabs my arm. "Don't be a hero." I look at him and see fear. I look around the whole freaking room filled with people who are supposed to be soldiers and I see fear. I pull the gun from my waistband, knowing that if exposed to too much heat, it will go off. I hand it to Arlo and he hesitantly grabs onto it.

"I don't know how to be anything else." I pull my arm away from his grasp and hurry away from the dining hall and towards Madge's room. The smell of smoke grows stronger with each step I take. Fear boils inside of me as flashback after flashback runs through my head. Being whipped; Finnick's death; my capture; the hours spent in the war ravaged capital. I bite my tongue, cutting through the flesh. I use the pain to take me away from the memories. Smoke fiercely attacks my lungs, threatening to choke me.

Then the second bomb drops. A wave of heat hits me along with a powerful shock wave. I'm thrown against a wall. I throw my hands up to protect my face. My head breaks through the plaster and I see stars. A thin trickle of blood winds down my neck but I ignore it, pushing myself up. The world spins. I'm no longer able to run without feeling like collapsing. I start throwing open doors, searching for survivors; Searching for Madge. I turn a corner and see fire, a wall of fire blocking me off from Madge's door. _She's probably in the basement_, the logical part of my mind rationalizes. But I feel it, deep in my gut. An aching that tells me something's not right. I embrace the instinct, pulling myself closer and closer to the inferno.

Then there's a scream. The entire world flips. I push through the fire. My clothes quickly catch. I pull off my burning jacket and tear off the sleeves, which are still intact. I place my hands in them and use my protected hands to open every door in the hall. Empty. Empty. Empty.

The person screams again and all I can think about is Madge. I pick up my pace. Empty. Empty. Not empty. I push through the flames and into the room. It's not Madge. My entire body goes cold. It's a guy. The fire blocks him in a corner. I glance at his bed and silently thank fate for this small stroke of good luck. I pull the blanket off the bed.

"Stand up!" I scream, my voice hoarse. He stands. I sprint through the thick wall of fire, trying to keep the fabric of the blanket from catching. I wrap it around him along with my arms and hurry out of the room. I can feel him trembling. I push him into the hallway.

"Run! To the basement! You need to hurry!" Fire licks at my skin and I resist the urge to scream.

"You're going to leave me!"

"I need to find her," I say, frantically looking down the hall. He gives me a dirty look then sprints down the hallway. I hurry back into the room and open the closet. There's an extra jacket. I throw it on, the heat causing me to tremble in pain. I take a t-shirt and tear off a strip, tying it over my nose and mouth. If I take in much more smoke I won't be saving anyone. I continue down the hall, pain and smoke inhalation making me dizzy and exhausted. I pull open one of the last remaining doors. No Madge. The next room? No. The third? Again, no. I stand for a minute and seriously consider continuing the, not knowing how much longer I can go before my body gives out.

I push forward. The first door I open holds two bodies. A man and a woman. _Madge_. She's slumped against the far wall and for a terrifying moment I think she's dead. Abbott lies a few feet away, the skin of his arms horribly burned. They both appear to be unconscious.

Suddenly I'm faced with a terrible dilemma. Save a respected officer or a criminal. Save the man I hate or the woman I love. I check Abbott's pulse. Strong. Steady. I shake him and he gives a hoarse moan. His eyes flicker open and I let out a shaky breath.

"Abbott. Abbott, I need you to wake up." He rolls over and sees me.

"Am I dead?" he asks.

"Not yet," I say cynically. "Get up. We need to get out of here." I move over to Madge as Abbott starts to stand. "Take the cases off of those pillows," I say. I check Madge's pulse. It's strong. I feel like crying in relief but I don't, knowing that we haven't made it quite yet.

Another bomb drops, bringing the grand total up to three. This one's fallen near the mess hall. My heart sinks. Our chance of survival just dropped significantly. I gently shake Madge and she stirs.

"Gale?" Her voice is husky from smoke inhalation. I turn to Abbott.

"Tie a pillowcase over your face to filter the smoke," I tell him. "Hand me the other one." I tie the fabric over Madge's nose and mouth. "Can you stand?" I ask her. She tries to sit up and makes a strangled sound. Then I notice the bullet wound in her shoulder. A million questions flit through my mind and I ignore them all, knowing that our survival is the most important thing. I lift her into my arms, every muscle in my body protesting. "When we leave this room, we're going to have to run," I say to Abbott.

"Hawthorne," Abbott says. "That bomb just fell on the mess hall. You know that and I know that. We also both know that the mess hall holds the only entrance to the basement in this building."

"We're not going to die," I say. I sound more confident then I feel.

"There's an exit two hallways down. The fire's thicker there. If we run we might be able to make it outside and to another building," Abbott says. I close my eyes and consider this option. I know we have no choice. Our odds are grim either way. I nod. "Let me go first," he says. A new respect for him swells in me. He hurries into the hallway and I follow after him. Every movement brings a wave of pain, more intense than anything I've ever felt before. Abbott leads us to the exit, the fire choking us at every turn. He throws open the door and we break out into the courtyard. We sprint through the courtyard and to the next building over. I see Abbott's shoulders tense. Madge buries her face into my neck. She lets out a shuddering breath.

We burst through the front doors. The basement entrance is close to the front doors. Abbott picks up his speed as he heads to it. My legs shake as I descend the stairs. A crowd of soldiers greets us.

"Thank god," one mutters. He takes Madge from my trembling arms. I don't want to let her go, but I know I can't support her for much longer.

"Gale," I hear her mutter. I hurry after the guy holding her. A hand holds me back.

"Have you seen the General?" Commander Jund, a respected officer here, asks.

"The General?" I ask, the smoke and confusion mangling my thoughts.

"He's missing," she says gravely. The world spins and I reach for the wall. Jund's hand reaches out to steady me. I meet her eyes knowing what I have to do. Realization flashes in her eyes. "Hawthorne, no." she says. I break away and hurry up the stairs. Cries of surprise echo around me but I'm past caring. Past thinking. His office is in this building. Why isn't he here? I throw open the door to his office and I see him lying on the ground, profusely bleeding. With a gun to his head.

**O0O**

**One Hour Earlier**

"Undersee!" Abbott calls. I grit my teeth and clench my eyes shut. "General Amatore wants to see you." I sigh and open the door to my room. A cocky smile twists his lips. Hatred twists within my gut. Abbott leads the way to the General's office in silence. He knocks on the door.

"Come in!" a voice calls. I turn open the door and see the General, seated at his desk. He looks commanding, like he could take down all of our enemies single handedly.

"Here's Undersee like you requested, sir," Abbott says.

"Thank you, Commander." Abbott nods and turns to leave. "Stay. This regards you too." Abbott's eyebrows briefly wrinkle in confusion before he quickly resumes his powerful stance. "I've heard that Undersee's making incredible progress in her training. Is that true?" he directs to Abbott. _Don't lie_, I silently will Abbott.

"She has been doing exceptionally well for a first year," he says grudgingly. I'm briefly surprised by his honesty and shoot him a surprised glance. The General nods his approval. "I want to remove her from your guard." A thrill of excitement shoots through me. "From now on," he tells me, "you'll be treated as a full—" The General abruptly stops in the middle of his sentence. I shoot him a confused expression and expand my senses. Then I hear it. The sound of footsteps in the hallway. The door bangs open and three uniformed men walk in. They're not NUO. Their flamboyant tattoos and hair styles instantly tells us that they're Capitol citizens. One points a gun at the General.

"Hands up," he says. We obey. I steal a frantic glance at the General, who's the picture of calm. I try to copy him, refusing to show fear in front of the enemy, just like Gale taught.

"Who are you?" the General asks, his tone steady and emotionless. The man laughs and smiles.

"We are the reincarnation of President Snow," he says. If it wasn't for the gun pointed at my head, I would have laughed. The General didn't have the same restrictions. He smiled and let out a brief laugh.

"So why are you here?" he asks. I can see him stalling.

"To avenge his death. In two minutes, the first bomb will drop," he says with a wicked smile. The smile falls from General Amatore's face. "But we're not going to let you die the easy way." All this is directed at the General. Abbott and I are forgotten. I look over at him and he meets my gaze. A silent conversation passes between us. I don't know what he's about to do, but I know it's something and I know I'm going to need to help him.

He nods, a small barely there nod. I reach to my belt like I'm about to pull out a gun. Every weapon in the room is suddenly trained on me. In an instant Abbott has his own gun out and shoots the man who's been talking in the chest. In a single moment I feel myself being pushed sideways. A horrible burning pain spreads through my shoulder. I've been shot. And Abbott just saved my life. I hear a scream and realize it's me. Another shot rings out and I know another man has been killed.

"Run!" the General shouts. "Warn everybody you can!" Abbott grabs me around my waist and we rush down the halls, screaming our warning. We hurry to the main building, knowing that everyone will be eating dinner at this time.

"We—have to—get there before—"

"I know," Abbott says, cutting me off. I'm losing a lot of blood. I feel myself starting to fade. Abbott releases me for a split second, telling me to hold onto him, and rips off a sleeve of his jacket. He holds it against my wound. We start running again, me holding the sleeve onto my wound, Abbott dragging me along beside him. We push open the emergency exit and rush down the halls.

Then the first bomb drops. I see a wall of fire descend and suddenly I'm afraid. Abbott throws open a door and pulls me into it. He gently sets me against the wall. My stomach flips as I think of all of the people who just died because we weren't fast enough. _Gale_, I think. _What if he was one of them?_ I feel like vomiting. A voice comes over the intercom, ordering everyone to rush to the basement and safety. If only.

"What are we going to do?" I ask. Abbott opens the door and hurries outside. I feel a wave of heat right before he shuts the door. The seconds tick by and he doesn't return. I start to become worried. Suddenly, there's a bang and a scream of agony. I move to stand but my legs collapse from under me. Abbott runs into the room and slams the door shut. "Are you alright?" I ask. He grits his teeth and I see his arm. It's horribly burned. His eyes roll back and I'm afraid he's going to pass out from pain. _If he hadn't ripped off his sleeve…_ I don't finish the thought, not wanting to dwell on the "what ifs" of the situation. He looks at me, anguish in his features.

"Can you walk?" he asks. I try to stand again and shake my head. He walks over to me and sits beside me. He grabs my hand. I hide my surprise. "We're probably going to die today," he says. A second bomb drops and I can tell it's very close. The smoke filters in the room and the temperature rapidly increases. "I'm sorry," he says. The smoke fills my lungs and my head swims.

"Me too," I whisper, remembering every bad thing I thought about him, every insult. Every time I called him a coward. I think of Gale, knowing that if I die tonight, I want him to be the last thought on my mind. Abbott stands and sweeps the room with his eyes. He looks at the barred window and laughs humorlessly. "What's your first name?" I ask him, suddenly realizing that I don't know it. I don't want him to die with his last thought being of our impossible circumstances.

"Rorik," he answers. _Rorik Abbott_.

"Well, thank you for saving my life Commander Rorik Abbott," I say. He turns and smiles.

"I wish I could have saved more." I fight unconsciousness, not wanting to give up without a fight but not knowing what I can do. I feel myself fading fast, blood loss and smoke inhalation slowly taking my life from me. I fight till the last second, but eventually the darkness overcomes me and I slip into unconsciousness.

**O0O**

**Current Time**

There's a man standing over General Amatore, his face a mask of hostility. He turns at the sound of my entrance and grimaces.

"Hawthorne," the General hisses. The pain is obvious in his voice. "What are you doing here?" I stand there weaponless, in more pain than I thought a person could live through, but I stand confidently. I look the General's captor right in the eyes. He points the gun at me and I smile, my mind furiously creating a plan.

"I wouldn't do that," I say, my voice coming out light. "Under this jacket I have a vest made entirely out of explosives." My lie comes out cleanly. "If you shoot me, you kill everyone in this room." He trains his gun on the General, his eyes flashing with fear. _He's a coward_, I think. "I wouldn't do that either. If you shoot him, I'll push a button and kill everyone in this room." I see him smile; see the Catch 22 play out in his mind. If he shoots me, he dies. If he shoots the General, he dies. If he escapes…

"You're lying."

"Do you really want to test me?" The man looks at the gun in his hand. I can see his mind furiously working at the problem. "You have one minute or I kill you." I reach behind me, as if I'm putting my hand on a gun or a button or whatever his mind wants to think. Sweat breaks out across his forehead. I can feel the General's gaze on me. I keep my eyes steadily on our enemy. Uncertainty twists in my stomach. I glance briefly at my watch and place a smile on my lips. The man smiles back and shoots me. The shot grazes the outside of my thigh. A flesh wound. I look back up but he's gone, sprinting down the hallway. I grab his gun from where he dropped it on the floor and place it in the waistband of my pants. I pull myself over to the General. Exhaustion sweeps through me. My head is still bleeding from my first wound. My arms are burned, the flesh is an angry pink in some places and gone in others.

The General sits up. I can tell it's hard for him.

"They have explosives in the building. That man is heading right to his superiors," General Amatore chokes out.

"The people in the basement..." He shoots me a pained look.

"The doors aren't locked. They need the code." Suddenly I get it.

"And you're the only one with the code." He nods. Adrenaline kicks through me, temporarily erasing my pain. "We have to hurry." I haul myself to my feet and grit my teeth against the waves of agony. General Amatore pushes himself of the ground. I shoot him a worried glance.

"I'm fine," he says. "It's you I'm worried about." I shake off his concern and we rush down the halls, as fast as our injured bodies will allow. At the sound of our footsteps, two soldiers rush up the stairs. Relief floods their faces as they realize who it is. They hurry us down the stairs.

"The doors," I say to the one helping me. He ignores me. I shove against him. "_The doors_," I hiss, venom dripping from my voice. He hurries away and shuts the door. I lean on the wall, unable to continue on without support.

"Commander Jund!" the General shouts. The Commander hurries over. "A75HG37O." Understanding lights Jund's face and she hurries away. I hear the locks click into place and then my legs give out from under me as the world goes dark.


	10. Chapter 10

They hurry me to a room. I search for Gale, needing him to know that I still love him. I can't die without him knowing that. A team of medics surround me, holding gauze against my shoulder. They start screaming things at each other but the world is quickly fading. I black out.

**0O0**

A flash of pain in my shoulder rips me away from my mind.

"Stay with me," one of the medics say, their face hovering above mine. I focus on the vibrant green eyes floating in a sea of black. They become the only thing I can see; two pinpricks of green tying me to life.

"We got it!" a medic says. The pain in my shoulder starts to ease.

"They just removed the bullet from your shoulder," my medic says. Her voice is relieved which reassures me. "We're getting some blood into you and then we're going to give you some drugs for the pain. But right now I need you to fight." I feel hands all over my body, stitching my skin together, rubbing different types of ointments over my skin, pumping blood into me. I feel some strength begin to return.

"I'm really tired," I mutter.

"You can sleep now," she tells me. Her bright eyes are the last thing I see before the darkness embraces me.

**0O0**

When I wake up, Abbott beside me, his injured arm wrapped in light gauze. He meets my gaze and smiles. I move my shoulder. There's a short burst of pain but nothing remotely close to what I felt before. I sit up.

"Where's Gale?" I ask. Abbott's gaze drops from mine. "Where's Gale?" I ask, more authoritatively. Abbott gently touches my shoulder.

"He ran back." I feel like throwing up.

"What?"

"He heard that the General was in trouble and he ran back to help him." My stomach flips.

"Is he alright?" I ask. I sit up and my head swims. Although I feel worlds better than I did, I'm by no means healed.

"They don't know yet," Abbott says softly. I start shaking. A medic wraps me in a blanket, but I know it won't help me. The uncontrollable shivering has nothing to do with the cold. Silent tears roll down my cheeks. Abbott's hands gently push me back and I lie down.

"Undersee," he says softly. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I whisper, feeling another traitorous tear roll down my cheek. The look he gives me tells me he doesn't believe me. "Why didn't he just stay here?"

"Hawthorne wouldn't hide. You know that and I know that." Sudden anger flares within me.

"Yes. Gale Hawthorne. He _has_ to be the hero. He's such a—a stupid, _suicidal_ bastard!" I shout. Abbott looks shocked at my outburst. "He—he could have—we could have—Abbott, I don't know—" His hands push me back so that I'm lying down again. Each breath creates shock waves of pain.

"Undersee, you're hyperventilating. Take a deep breath." I listen to him, willing to do anything to stop the pain. Black crawls in from the edges of my vision. My breathing starts to slow but I feel drained. He clasps my un-injured shoulder reassuringly and sits beside me. I fall back into unconsciousness.

**0O0**

When I wake up an indeterminable time later, Abbott is still there. I flick my eyes up to him.

"Gale's going to be fine," he says, staring at the blank concrete wall. "There's going to be a meeting soon and the General wants the three of us there." I sit up, without pain. _Thank god for modern drugs_.

"Is he awake? Can I see him?" Abbott smiles.

"I guess I should have seen that coming. Can you stand?" I swing my legs over the side of the bed, surprised at how well my body is responding. "You've been out for almost a whole day so you'll probably be shaky," he says. _A whole day? _I wipe away the thought and carefully lower myself onto the ground, putting some weight on my legs. They hold. I look at him triumphantly, feeling strangely accomplished. He smiles and leads me around the corner. I follow him on slightly wobbly legs. He stops outside the adjoining doorway. "In here?" I ask. He nods and continues walking down the hallway.

"I'll get the two of you before the meeting starts."

"Thank you," I whisper. He nods again, the only way I know he's heard me at all. I peak in the doorway. Gale is pacing with a noticeable limp. He's heavily bandaged and has an IV attached to the inside of his arm which is severely limiting his movement. Instead of a shirt he's wearing a bandage over a large portion of his chest. But he's alive. I swallow, suddenly nervous. He puts his bandaged hands over his eyes and mutters something. I smile slightly.

I can't disturb him. I _can't_. He looks so stressed and I'll just—

But it's too late. He's already seen me. He stands frozen, watching me. His eyes quickly sweep my body and I feel heat prickle over my skin. I bite my lip, longing to close the distance between us.

"Madge," he whispers, so softly I'm forced to wonder if I'm imagining it. His stony eyes are filled with emotion, so much emotion. Suddenly I'm full of anger.

"You idiot," I say. He looks taken aback. "You stupid, selfish—" I break off, trying to think of another suitable insult. "Why? Why did you run back?"

"Because that's what—"

"That's what you do, right? You save people?" He stares at me as if I've grown another head.

"The—the General was—"

"Missing? Maybe he was in a far wing, ever think of that?"

"But he wasn't in—" Gale starts to say, clearly growing irritated.

"And how about this. Why did you run back _for me?"_ He looks confused. I notice all of the bandages covering his arms are light, meaning they're probably covering burns. _If he hadn't run after me… _I break off the thought. He stares at me. I can see the gears working in his mind. He hadn't thought I'd ask that.

"You were going to die in—"

"You," I say, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You said that I—was it because of Abbott? You knew he would be with me and you—" The thought hurts me so badly I can barely finish it. "You wanted to be the hero? You wanted the—"

"How can you _say _that?" he asks, anger clouding his eyes. "How can you—how can you even _think _that?" He stops himself and takes a deep breath.

"And you went after the General…why? For a promotion?" More anger then I'd ever felt in my life boils within me. I hadn't realized I had the ability to hold this much rage inside of me. "Do you even _realize_ what could have happened? You could have _died_, Gale! I could have—" _lost you_.

"You're right," he says. Seeing the strength of the pain in his eyes hurts me worse than all the burns and bullet wounds I could ever receive. "I was selfish. I didn't think of the good of the country or NUO or anyone else. I thought only of myself." He lets out a breath and looks at me. "I love you, Madge," he says. He stumbles over the words as if he's never said them before. As if they're the hardest things in the world to say. I can barely process the words myself. "_That's _why I ran back. Not because of Abbott. Not because of my hero complex. Not because of anything else."

"You said that you didn't love me," I say, refusing to believe what I thought was impossible. He takes a step towards me, his hand moving forward as if he wants to touch me but he doesn't dare. He looks so—broken.

"The General told me that if I stayed with you he would send you to a detention center and fire me. I thought—I thought that if I broke it off, then it would be easier on us. I thought we could move on and be happy but—" I feel a single tear roll down my cheek. Gale steps forward, closing the gap between us, and wipes it away with his thumb. A strangled sob escapes me. He crushes me against him. I hold him back, forgetting everything but the familiar feeling of his body against mine.

"Gale," I sob. He gently strokes my hair and plants soft kisses on the top of my head. I pull myself closer to him, not realizing how much I missed him and how afraid I was that he wouldn't survive. He pulls back and studies my face.

"You're alright," he says. I don't know whether he's trying to reassure me or himself. The look in his eyes makes me wonder why I ever doubted his love for me. "I thought you were dead." He kisses my forehead, the tip of my nose, both of my cheeks, then finally, and oh-so-gently, my lips. "Run away with me," he mutters against my mouth.

"What?" I ask, shock consuming me. I pull away from him, holding him at arm's length.

"Run away with me. Amatore won't let me be with you and I can't—I have to be with you. There's no other option. I tried to stay away from you and I sucked at it." I give a small laugh and he smiles at me. He lets out a strained breath. "Let's leave. Now."

"Gale," I say gently. "Think about what you're saying. You're a soldier. The _base_ has just been bombed. We can't leave. We _can't." _His shoulders slump in defeat. He knows that. Deep down, he's known it all along. He takes a step forward and crushes his lips against mine. He pulls me against him. The pain I feel is so distant I don't care about it. He tilts his head and deepens the kiss. I loop my arms around his neck, relishing the feel of his smooth, heated skin. He pulls back again, so we can breathe, and rests his forward against mine.

Someone clears their throat. We quickly break away and look at the doorway.

Abbott.

I flush a bright red.

"The General needs the two of you. The meeting's starting in a minute."

**O0O**

Gale and I walk into the makeshift meeting room, hand in hand. General Amatore's eyes flash right to our intertwined fingers and I can see disapproval swimming in their depths. I start to pull away, but Gale tightens his grip and flashes me a look. We take seats next to each other. The meeting consists of me, Gale, Abbott, Amatore, Jund and another soldier I don't know.

"Does anyone know who the hell those people are?" the General asks, getting right to the point.

"I think it's a group of our people who aren't happy with the way we're running the country," Jund says.

"No. They were definitely Capitol. They had the look. And the accent," Amatore says.

"My theory," Abbott says, "is that they're ex-peacekeepers who banded together and are trying to take down our new government." I look carefully at Abbott and consider the possibility.

"But they were horrible fighters," I throw say. A couple people look surprised I've spoken, but I hold my ground. "I knew a lot of peacekeepers and they all knew how to fight a lot better than our attackers did."

"She has a point," Abbott says. "Peacekeepers would be able to respond too. Undersee and I were able to quickly take down two of them." Gale shoots me a surprised look and I blush, knowing that Abbott basically brought the soldiers down on his own. "And they didn't chase after us when we ran. Any seasoned fighter would have known to remove the threats quickly and effectively. Every cadet knows that."

"But we wiped out all the Capitol citizens," Jund says.

"It's improbable that we have them _all_," I put in.

"So you think a group of rogue Capitol citizens attacked a high-security army base? Where do you think they got their supplies?" the man I don't know asks.

"I'm not sure what I think. But I know there _are_ rogue Capitol citizens. There has to be. And I'm pretty damn sure that's who our attackers were," I respond.

"But that doesn't answer the question of how they'd get their supplies," Amatore says. I flash a glance at Gale, who's stayed silent so far. His jaw is tense and he's rubbing his hand over his eyes. I squeeze his hand, worried about him. He glances up at me and offers me a brief smile. "There haven't been any raids recently."

"Maybe they have some supplies stored away from before. Someplace we haven't found yet," Jund suggests.

"Or," Gale says. "We could have a traitor." No one says anything. "Think about it," he continues. "We know the attackers were Capitol. Anyone who saw that wouldn't even question it. We know they're not soldiers. They were cowardly, slow, and stupid. I'm sure they have a leader somewhere. They said so themselves. There has to be a mastermind behind this plan."

"And why is that, Commander?" Amatore asks. I can't tell if he's intrigued or irritated.

"They managed to bomb us without us having a clue they're coming. We have people manning the radars 24/7. A whole group of guys. That leaves two options. The first is that they were drugged, which would have to be done by one of our own. That in itself would be risky because they would have to be damn sure that no one would walk in and see the drugged guards. They'd also have to be able to get their hands on the drugs, which we have under lock and key, and drug them in a way that wouldn't be suspicious. Then there's the second option." Gale stops, as if contemplating whether or not to say what he's thinking. "They could have had a hovercraft that left no signal."

"That's impossible!" the unknown man says.

"That's new technology," Gale counters. "Beetee and I have been working on the prototype. As far as I know it's the only one in existence. If that's the case, then we have a traitor who's feeding the enemy intelligence." I stare at Gale. He's completely right. I glance around the room and it looks like everyone else is thinking the same thing.

"How do we know the Capitol didn't already have the technology and the attackers are just using the hovercrafts we didn't know existed?" Jund asks.

"I've spent hour upon hour searching through the old technology records left from before the war. There's nothing there. Believe me," Gale says.

"Let's say there is a traitor. Who is it?" Amatore asks.

"Wouldn't the prime suspects be Hawthorne and Beetee?" the man asks. Gale slams his palms on the table and stands.

"A _traitor_?" Gale asks, fury dripping from his voice.

"You _were_ missing in action during the bombing."

"Saving lives—"

"Or ending them."

"Where were you when the damn place was going up in flames? In the basement like a coward?"

"I sure as hell wasn't charging into a burning building like a fool!"

"A fool? I can take that. I'd rather die a fool then live as a coward."

"You are a coward! And a traitor—"

"Remind me what you do again, Hayford? That's right. You're in charge of _operations_. You sit on you damn ass while the real soldiers fight your battles for you!"

"Real soldier?" the man shouts, getting to his feet. "You don't even know what a real soldier _is_!" Amatore tries to interject but they keep fighting. Gale pounds his fist on the table. Blood seeps through the bandages but he doesn't notice. "Real soldiers don't betray they're country."

"You son-of-a-bitch," Gale says, he starts to move forward but I grab his arm. He glances down at me.

"That's enough!" Amatore shout. "I have half a mind to fire you both! Now is not the time to be fighting! If you want to fight do it on your own time!" Gale lets out a strangled breath then sits back down. He looks down at his bleeding hand. I grab it gently, trying to silently reassure him.

"That's right," Hayford murmurs. "Go back to your bitch." Hot anger coils within me.

"I said enough!" Amatore screams. Hayford sits down and shoots a glare at Gale. I meet Gale's eyes.

"He's the new Abbott," I mouth. Gale smiles tensely.

"Worse," Gale responds.

"Gale's not a traitor," Abbott says. I smile at Gale then look at Abbott, happy to have someone else on our side.

"Neither is Beetee," I say. "Why would a _victor _be fighting for the Capitol?" Gale gives my hand a grateful squeeze.

"What does this mean for the base?" Abbott asks, looking at Amatore. "If we don't know who the traitor is…"

"It means we can't let anyone in or out."

"But what if the person's already gone? What if they left with the attackers?" I ask. Suddenly a thought rushes into my mind, filling me with fear. "What if they're already planning the next attack?" The room is silent. I glance at Gale, looking for comfort and finding uncertainty. Right. We're screwed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Gale P.O.V**

After three hours of turning over every possibility imaginable, I feel myself drifting off. I shake myself in a poor attempt to stay awake but sleep insists on taking me. Everyone looks like they're in the same state. The coffee in between my bandaged hands has long since turned cold. Madge's head is resting on my shoulder. She's fighting sleep, but it looks like she's losing the battle. Amatore takes a weary glance around the room and dismisses us.

"Not you Hawthorne," he calls. I bite back a retort, wanting nothing more right now than to fall asleep with Madge in my arms. Madge rests her hand gently on my arm.

"Will you be okay?" she mutters softly. I nod once briefly. She brushes my cheek with the tips of her fingers then walks away. I take a deep breath and approach the General.

"How much have you told the girl?" he asks me.

"Madge? What do you mean?"

"I think Undersee could be our traitor." Anger surges within me, hot and powerful.

"No. She's not—"

"How much have you told her?" he asks, his voice stony and commanding.

"Nothing." I try to keep the feral edge out of my voice.

"Could she have seen your sketches? Maybe you slipped something without noticing…" he trails off, encouraging me to think about it but I don't need to.

"There's a better chance that _I'm _the traitor."

"Are you?" I shoot him a glare and he grins weakly. "I didn't think so." He leans back in his chair, scrubbing his face with his hand. I have never seen the General look so disheveled. "Are you willing to bet your life on that? If she's the traitor then it's on your head. There will be blood on your hands."

"There already is." His cool gaze watches me for signs of weakness. "Madge is not the traitor." He says nothing for a moment, watching me as if he can tell whether or not I'm lying just by the look on my face. Finally he nods. "Are we done here?" I ask.

"We have one more thing to discuss. You disobeyed a direct order." I nod, lifting my chin in defiance. I should have seen this coming. He rakes his hand through his hair and exhales deeply then sits up and meets my eyes. "I don't know how to handle this situation. One option is to demote you and send the girl to a detention center." He leans forward and rests his elbows on the edge of the table as I clench my jaw and fist my hands at my side. "Or I could award you a Medal of Honor and ask President Paylor to promote you to General. You saved four lives, including my own." My heart picks up at his words. A Medal of Honor is the greatest honor a soldier can receive and to be promoted to General…that would be incredible. But at the same time I know it's not right.

"I don't want an award or a promotion. All I want is to be with Madge." I can hear the desperation in my voice. I shut my mouth before anything else can escape. His eyes bore into mine.

"I can't condone this sort of behavior."

"And I can't lose her." I suddenly know that I'll quit and return to District 12 before letting Madge go.

"Your…relationship…violates so many unspoken rules. The army is not a place for romance."

"If you forbid me to see her you'll see my resignation on your desk tomorrow morning." The room is silent as he takes in this information.

"She is still, technically, a prisoner here. She will not be able to go with you."

"She will be able to one day. Until then, it will be easier if she doesn't have to see me."

"I'm going to need to think about this. Right now you're free to do what you like, but please keep it low key." I nod once and leave, letting out a silent sigh of relief. At least there's a chance in hell. I head to my room, my echoing footsteps being the only sound in the hallways. Everyone else has long since gone to bed. Every muscle in my body aches. I limp heavily, wanting nothing but to collapse to the floor and fall asleep wherever I land.

When I reach the room I see that Madge, pacing. She stops at the sound of my arrival. I've never been so tired and injured in all my life. I don't know how I'm going to explain to her the conversation I just had, let alone take a single step forward.

I start to drag myself into the room. Worry lines appear on her face and she hurries over, looping my arm over her uninjured shoulder and placing a supporting arm around my waist. She helps me to the bed. I sink into it.

"Madge," I say, knowing I should tell her what happened.

"Not now," she says softly, lovingly.

"But—"

"It can wait until tomorrow." Madge grabs a blanket from the corner of the room and lays it at the end of the bed. She eases my shirt off then helps me lie back. Carefully, she lays the blanket over my aching body.

Madge works silently. She doesn't ask me what the General wanted me for. She doesn't ask me what's going to happen. She doesn't demand answers or ask ridiculous questions. For that, I love her.

I grab her wrist and gently pull her onto the bed. She carefully settles onto her back keeping a comfortable space between us. She turns her head to face me, her hair falling across her face. The tips of my fingers brush it out of the way. I intertwine our fingers, not trusting myself to hold her any closer than that. She lifts our intertwined hands and kisses my fingers.

"'Night, Gale."

"'Night, Madge." Sleep quickly swallows me.

**0O0**

_Fire. The world is fire. The flames lick my skin, but strangely, I can't feel them. I focus on my surroundings and realize it's District 12. I'm standing in the meadow, thick walls of fire destroying everything familiar._

_I turn and see Katniss, her eyes wide as she screams my name, shouting at me to help her, to release her from this world of fire and pain. I stumble backwards and trip over a burning body. _Her _burning body. I pull myself away from her and stumble onto my feet. _

_Rory appears, his body made of flames. His wide eyes cut into me. He's trying to be brave, but I can tell he's terrified. Vick follows him. He reaches out to me. I rush forward, wanting to pull him to my chest and hold him. He falls and I run towards him, reaching out. My fingers touch his skin and he disintegrates._

_I turn a corner and there's my mother, Posy's limp body cradled in her arms. She screams as she clutches her dead child. I run towards her, begging this awful world to let me save at least one person. But she falls to the ground and is engulfed in flames before I can reach her. _

_A piercing scream cuts through the sound of flickering flames. Madge. She takes a step towards me._

"_You said you loved me!" she sobbed, the tears sizzling as they fall down her flaming face. She clutches at her chest. Where her heart should be there's a gaping hole. _

"_I do love you!" I scream back. I don't go after her, terrified that she'll die and I'll lose the last thing that ever mattered to me at all. She falls to her knees. Her head tips back as she lets out an agonized scream. _

"_Make it stop, Gale!" I step towards her and she flickers, her entire being fading away. _

"_I don't know how!" I scream desperately. She curls on the ground, clawing at her face and open chest, screaming for me to help her._

"_Gale! Gale!"_

**0O0**

"Gale!" I shoot up, pain shooting all through my body. My breath comes out in ragged gasps and I'm covered in a sheen of sweat. Madge is kneeling on the bed beside me, her face a mask of worry. I sit up. There are people standing against the walls, watching me as I fight to regain composure. I take a deep breath and put on a mask, trying to look ever the part of the competent Commander. I stand up, ignoring the pain that shoots up my shaky legs. I feel Madge's eyes on me and ignore them. I nod to everyone and walk past them and out the door. They all break into muttered conversations.

I head to the make shift kitchen, needing to get away. When I get there, Arlo's chopping up something brown and foul looking, wrinkling his nose at the smell. He turns at the sound of my approach and stops, setting his knife down and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

"Why? Do I look flustered?" I ask.

"Uh, no. Why?"

"No reason."

"There's coffee in the pot," he says. I fill up a mug and take a deep swallow, relishing in the bitter taste. I lean against the counter, taking weight off of my injured leg. "Gale? Why are you not wearing a shirt?" I glance down at my chest, bare except for the sporadic bandages covering my burns.

"Do you have any alcohol?" I ask him instead of giving him an answer.

"Don't even think about it." There's a soft knock on the door.

"Is Gale there?" Madge. I push off from the counter and pull open the door. She's holding a thin grey t-shirt. I gratefully pull it over my head.

"Madge!" Arlo says gleefully.

"Hey," she says with a smile, slipping past me and into the kitchen. "What is that?" she asks, wrinkling her nose at the brown food.

"I asked the same question," Arlo says. "Whatever it is, it's disgusting and it's for breakfast."

"Great," Madge mutters beneath her breath. She turns to look at me, still standing in the doorway. I'm silently trying to gather the energy to make it across the room without them noticing my weakness. It turns out I can't hide anything from Madge. Her eyebrows bunch together as she watches me. "The medics want to see you," she says. I let out a sigh.

"I'm fine," I say. She glances down at my leg, flinches, than meets my eyes. I look down and see that the wound has reopened. That's where all the pains coming from. I swear under my breath. They're both looking at me with concerned expressions. Madge meets me in the doorway.

"Come on, Mr. Hero." She reaches out and intertwines our fingers.

**0O0**

The medics are keeping me on bed rest. After they patched up my leg and re-dressed my wounds they gave me a lecture on how the fastest road to healing is rest and walking increases my risk of reopening my wounds. Right.

Madge sits silently beside me, her hand in mine. Before the medics left, they gave me a strong painkiller, not trusting me to remain in one place without the help of powerful drugs. I turn my head and look at Madge, still sitting in the chair beside my bed, our hands being our only link to each other.

"Why did we have half the base in our room this morning?" I ask her. She smiles weakly and squeezes my hand.

"I woke up before you and went to see Abbott. You were screaming in your sleep and someone ran and got me." She pauses, biting her lip. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I just had a nightmare." The memory of the nightmare makes me wince. The drugs start kicking in, mercifully making thinking difficult. I examine Madge's stressed features. I kiss the back of her hand. "Madge," I whisper softly, touching her soft face with the tips of my fingers. "It was just a dream." I try to keep my voice steady and reassuring, but it comes out softly, unsure.

"Alright," she grumbles, still not convinced. She kisses my temple and starts to walk away but I won't let her.

"Stay with me," I mutter, sleepily.

"I can't," she says.

"Why not?" I ask. Some distant part of me thinks I sound like a petulant child, but currently, I don't care. A small smirk crosses her lips.

"You're funny when you're drugged," she says with a quiet laugh. She sits on the edge of my bed.

"Not good enough," I mutter, pulling her down beside me. I pull myself down to rest my head on her stomach. She strokes my hair. I feel unusually free. My body feels whole and uninjured. My mind's not running in wild circles like it usually does. I loop my arm around Madge's hips and pull her closer.

"Madge?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you marry me?" I mutter into her shirt. I feel her stiffen beneath me. Her fingers stop moving, resting in my hair. I inhale her scent. "We can get married in District 12, and then get our own room down here." She starts stroking my hair again, but her hand is shaking. "A lot of married soldiers do that. Amatore can't keep us apart if we're married. Then we could have kids. A lot of kids. I've always wanted kids. I like taking care of people." Her hand stops again. "We don't have to have kids if you don't want to," I mutter, sleep weighing down my eyelids. "I just want to make you happy." She rests her free hand on my back.

"I love you, Gale," she mutters. She gently pulls out from under me, being careful not to jostle me.

"Don't leave, Madge," I whisper, my voice hoarse. She kisses my cheek. The last thing I feel before I drift off to sleep is a single tear falling onto my skin.


	12. Chapter 12

**Gale P.O.V**

_Warm sunlight filters through the cracks in the wall, warming me where it touches. I don't want to open my eyes in fear that if I do, the world will come crashing apart. A small sigh makes me blink my eyes open. It's Madge, curled up against me. I pull her tighter into my side and kiss the top of her head, careful not to wake her. I can see small strips of the bright blue District 12 sky through the cracks in the wall. This is perfection. Perfection…_

The sound of an opening door wakes me up. I blink my eyes open, momentarily blinded by the harsh fluorescent lights. I reach out to my side, searching for Madge's softness and warmth, but there's nothing there but the crisp, cool sheets.

Of course; it was a dream.

I sigh in frustration and pull myself up, careful not to aggravate any of my injuries. Arlo is standing at the foot of my bed with a cup of coffee in his hand and a frown on his face. I rub my hand over my eyes, trying to rub away my fatigue.

"What is it Arlo?" I ask, my voice sounding harsh and gravelly in the silence. He holds out the mug and I grab it, awkwardly wrapping my bandaged fingers around it.

"Just bringing you coffee," he says. I take a sip of the bitter coffee and struggle to pull myself away from my dreams and back to reality. There's something I need to remember about last night…something important. I feel a headache coming on and let it go. If I can't remember it, it can't be all that important.

"Where's Madge?" I ask. A half grin spreads across his face. He says nothing and sits in the chair next to my bed. Something happened yesterday night. _Why can't I remember?_ Then, suddenly, I do.

"I was drugged," I say, hoping that by saying it out loud the thoughts will arrange themselves faster. "And Madge was there. I said something…oh no." I say, gripping the bridge of my nose to fight off the massive headache threatening to overtake me. Arlo leans forward, his elbows on his knees. He's fighting back a smile.

"What did you say, Gale?" he asks, his voice borderline patronizing. I glare at him.

"You knew." Arlo starts laughing hysterically. "Can you get a nurse?" I ask him. He immediately stops laughing.

"Why? Are you alright?" he asks.

"_I'm _fine. You're the one who's going to need medical attention when I'm done with you." Arlo moves the chair out of arms reach. "Is she alright?" I ask, remembering her reaction.

"I haven't seen her since dinner," he says. I blink, confused.

"Dinner?"

Arlo grins. "You've been out for a day and a half," he says.

"What? How?"

"The medics said they didn't trust you to stay in bed, so they kept you knocked out." I swing my legs around the edge of the bed with a loud sigh. I slowly ease my weight onto my leg, testing its strength. Arlo watches me as I stand and make my way to the door. "Where are you going?"

"To find Madge." Arlo sighs then follows me out.

"There's food in the kitchen if you get hungry." I wave a hand over my shoulder to signal that I've heard him. The base is empty except for a few stray soldiers making their way somewhere. I catch one by the arm.

"Commander Hawthorne," she says, her eyes widening. She stands at attention; her spine stiff and straight, her shoulders pulled back and her chin raised. "What do you need, s-sir," she says, fumbling with the world.

"At ease," I say, her formal posture making me uncomfortable. She relaxes his pose, but just slightly. "Where is everyone?" I ask.

"They're in bed, sir. It's almost midnight, sir." I rub my pounding head, feeling the walls push in around me.

"Are we still in lockdown?"

"No, sir. General Amatore just announced the base safe this afternoon, sir."

"Then why is everyone still down here?" I ask.

"Because the base is destroyed, sir. There's nowhere for us to stay, sir."

"So I can go up there." The soldier fidgets uncomfortably.

"Well, yes, sir. I guess you _can_, sir. But it's not recommended—"

"I swear to God, Soldier, if I hear the word 'sir' come out of your mouth one more time I will personally reassign you." Her muddy eyes widen and her lower lip trembles. _Shit_.

"I'm s-sorry," she mutters. I pinch the bridge of my nose.

"No, I'm sorry. It's been a long week. You're dismissed, Soldier," I say. She nods once then hurries away. I swerve through the hallways, until I get to the staircase leading outside. I hurry up the stairs, afraid that if I don't leave now, I'll lose my nerve. I place my hand on the doorknob. The cold metal is like a sharp reminder that what I'm about to see won't be pretty.

"Hawthorne?" a voice asks. I turn and see Abbott making his way up the stairs. "Where are you going?"

"Out. I can't stand it in here."

"Aren't you supposed to be in the Medical Bay?" I flash him a searing look.

"Why? Are you going to pull me back if I should be?" Abbott grins and leans against the railing.

"No. I'm just wondering." I meet the blazing blue eyes that I hated days before. "Madge is in her room if you want to see her," he says. I sit on the top stair and lean against the metal door. I decide not to say anything. "Trouble in paradise?"

"None of your business, Abbott." He grins.

"Just like old times." I sign and give an apologetic grin. "I'll leave you be. Should I tell Madge where you are?" he asks. I shake my head once. He nods at me once then walks away. I stand up, shakily and open the door.

Surprisingly, the base doesn't look like it's damaged at all. The only clue that anything happened at all is the smoke hanging in the air, the ash on the ground and my own injuries. Some of the windows are blown out, letting in the frigid autumn air. I open the front door and stop. The kitchen, the quarters, half the training fields, the buildings surrounding the main one. All destroyed. Portions of brick walls and twisted metal jut out from the ground as a reminder that this place was once more than a pile of ash.

It reminds me of District 12.

Memories boil inside of me. My knees shake beneath me and I feel like I'm going to fall over. I quickly turn away from the destruction and walk down the paths I've been walking every day for months. I try to think of anything but District 12 but my mind can't help but go there. Behind a building, there's an untouched strip of grass. I lie down on my back, relishing in the cool feeling of it beneath me. The stars shine brightly, small pinpricks of light shining in a dark world. How can they sit up there and watch as the people living below them slowly diminish and die, knowing that deaths are their own fate as well? It's cruel, the way they shine above me even though my entire world just fell apart.

**Madge P.O.V**

Gale has been out for almost two days. For those two days, I've been wandering the halls trying desperately to make myself useful, but failing. Mostly I've been searching what's left of the buildings for anything that can be salvaged. I wish General Amatore would let us go back to the base, destroyed or not. I'd rather sleep, shivering, under a blanket of stars in the midst of destruction then in this hard bunk with the concrete walls closing in around me.

Try as I might, sleep won't come. The cool sheets only serve to further confine me. Finally, I can't take it anymore and decide to leave this underground prison. I head out of the underground base. The devastation looks different under the light of the moon. I wander thoughtlessly around, heading towards the undamaged section of the base.

The cold quickly penetrates my thin pajamas and within minutes, I find myself shivering. I relish in the feel of freedom when I spot Gale, lying down in a patch of grass behind a building. I freeze, remembering our last conversation. Hesitantly, I make my way over to him, quiet as I can and sit beside him. His eyes are open, a map of the stars shining in them. He knows I'm here, but he doesn't say anything, so I don't push him for conversation. I carefully lie down next to him, my shoulder pressing against his. The stars above us are brilliant. They're the one constant in my life amid all the variation.

Gale shifts beside me, pressing his shoulder closer to mine. I soak up his warmth, relishing in the feeling, and close my eyes. We stay quiet, neither of us feeling the need to fill the beautiful silence with empty words. He reaches for my hand and interlocks our fingers, his surprisingly warm hand seeming my swallow mine.

"I hate the stars," he says. I turn my head to look at him. "Our entire world is falling apart and they're unchanging. Nothing can reach them. Sometimes I wonder why I try so hard to make everything right. I'm less than a single moment in the lifespan of the world, so why try to change it." I place my head on his cheek and turn his head to face me. I trace the hard lines of his face. He sighs and relaxes beneath my fingers. His arm reaches around me and pulls me against him, leaving our intertwined fingers between our bodies. His lips gently brush the top of my head, his warm breath sending rivers of heat through me.

"I'm sorry," he whispers softly.

"For what?" I ask, burying my face in the warmth of his chest.

"Don't make me say it," he whispers into my hair, his warm breath washing over me. He rubs circles into my back. He sighs softly and pulls me tighter against him. "For asking you to marry me," he says so softly I almost can't hear him. His words cut through me. He's _sorry _he asked me to marry him. I try to pull away from him, wanting to get away before he can see the tears threatening to fall down my face. He pulls me tighter to him.

"What's wrong, Madge?" he asks.

"Why are you sorry?" I ask him, my voice sounding weak and pathetic. He quickly pulls away, releasing my fingers at the same time. He brings his bandaged hands up to my face and cradles it in his calloused fingers.

"You were upset when I said it," he says. I bite my lip, remembering my reaction when he told me he wanted to marry me.

"Because I was afraid of this," I say softly, placing my hands on top of his and pulling them away from me. His wide eyes rapidly scan my face. I push myself up into a sitting position. He sits up next to me, not meeting my eyes. I need to ask him something, but I'm afraid. I focus on his strong jaw line and quickly spit out the question that's been weighing on my mind for the last day. "Did you just ask me because you were drugged?"

"Of course I only said it because I was drugged!" he says. I flinch and stand. He tries to follow my lead and winces, mumbling something under his breath. I bite my lip. He remains sitting, his injured leg stretched in front of him. His grey eyes meet mine for a brief second, but it was long enough for me to see the pain within their depths. He lies back and stares at the stars he hates so much. "You know me, Madge," he says to the sky. "I'm not one for heartfelt confessions."

"I know," I mutter softly.

"I wish I could be who you want me to be." My heart squeezes and I kneel down next to him. He keeps his eyes closed as I run my fingers over the stubble covering his cheek. "I'm not good enough for you, Madge." He remains unmoving, his intertwined fingers lying over his finely muscled stomach.

"Don't say that," I whisper. His eyes flicker open and he mumbles something so softly I can't hear him. One glance at my confused face tells him I didn't hear. He sits up and pulls me onto his lap. "You're leg," I say, trying to avoid injuring him further. He pulls me tighter to him.

"Worth it." He sighs quietly and places a soft kiss over my ear. "I do want to marry you." My heart skips a beat and I quickly pull away, wanting to see the truth in his eyes. He rests his forehead against mine. "I don't want to mess this up," he says. I twist myself so that I'm straddling his lap and cup his face between my hands. His arms rest around my waist.

"Later?" I ask, with a grin.

"Later," he says. His lips met mine. His lips are chapped from the hard days we've had and his stubble scratches my face but it's the most perfect kiss I've ever had. His lips move from mine to my cheek and down my neck. His fingers lightly brush my injured shoulder. "Is it still bothering you?" he whispers into my neck.

"Not right now," I say as his lips skim over the bandages. He brings his lips back up to mine and kisses me with a newfound intensity. My fingers knot in his silky black hair as his arms tighten around me, removing any remaining space between us. I push against him and he falls backward onto the grass.

He breaks the kiss and grits his teeth. I scramble to get off of him and kneel next to him anxiously.

"I'm alright," he says, shooting me a sheepish glance. "Later," he says, touching my cheek with his bandaged hand.

"When we're less…broken," I say with the smallest of grins. He pulls me down for one last, sweet, lingering kiss then I help him up and we walk back to the base, hand in hand.


	13. Chapter 13

**Alright-y…this is weirdly formatted, so bear with me here. The upcoming italics is not a dream sequence, it's an actual conversation between people who will be revealed by the end of the chapter (even though you'll probably be able to guess who it is)…Thanks for reading!**

_Our hovercraft touches down on a blackened field. I fight against the flashbacks ripping through my head and glance down at the letter sitting in my hands. A letter. The most out-dated form of communication out there. The words, hand printed, stare up at me, each one like a slap in the face. _

_A hand gently touches my shoulder. I lean against it, taking comfort in the feel of it against me. I take a deep breath and step onto the burnt grass._

_The base is crawling with people, covered in an irremovable layer of ash and sadness. They stare at us as we pass by. Their eyes bore into me, each gaze sitting heavily on my skin and weighing me down. I give a small nod as I pass by, keeping my eyes trained forward, even though I want nothing more than to yell at them; look somewhere else, I'm not who they think I am, I shouldn't be here._

_There are two buildings left standing. One of them houses General Amatore's office (Amatore being the one who sent me the letter) and half of the population of the base. He said that the quarter's are cramped and the morale is low. Once again, I try to remember why I agreed to come here. _

_I pause at the doorway of the main building, knowing I don't want to reenter this world of war and violence. A warm hand gently touches the back of mine. I give him a weak smile then grab his hand and grip onto it like a lifeline._

"_Now or never," I say softly. I step through the doorway and walk into the crowded hall. Every eye is immediately trained on me. My heart pounds in my chest; I can feel the blood as it surges through my veins, lending me generous amounts of adrenaline. I push my feelings aside and stride forward._

"_Can you bring us to General Riemet Amatore?" I ask a soldier. He nods, his cheeks flushed, and leads us to a door at the end of the hall. He quickly hurries away, flashing glances over his shoulder as he goes. I knock softly on the door, hoping that's he's not here, that I can go home and forget this ever happened. The door opens and a man with a weathered face appears in the doorway._

"_You're here," he says. Surprise is written all over his face, but he tries to hide it. I don't blame him. _I _didn't think I'd show up. "Come in, come in." I drop the hand holding mine and follow the General through the doorway. "We have a lot to discuss." I take a seat across from him and cross my arms over my stomach in an attempt to hold myself together. "As you know, the base has been nearly completely destroyed." _

"_Do we know who did it?" the boy asks._

"_We're working on that. We have some theories which will be covered in your debriefing session with the higher officers tomorrow evening. For now, I've asked one of the soldiers to show you around the base…or at least what's left of it." His weathered face suddenly looks older. "We thought the troops would positively respond to a strong figure at —"_

"_Strong?" I ask him. "Please tell me you're not referring to either one of us. Not anymore at least. No offense," I say to the boy next to me as I grab his hand._

"_None taken," the boy says, flashing me a sad smile. The General looks between us as if he's trying to figure us out. He looks surprised, like he thought we were still the powerful leaders we were before. He clears his throat and meets my eye._

"_The troops don't know anything except that you saved Pa—"_

"_I saved nothing," I cut in. "I destroyed. I killed_." _Amatore leans back in his seat, probably thinking about what to do with me. He probably wants to send us home. Part of me, the part that longs for my family and peace, wants him to. The other part, the stronger part that was so badly damaged in the war, wants to help; wants to fight. So I put the cards in his hands; "Haven't you hurt us enough?" I ask. The boys hand tightens around mine. Amatore's eyes flash quickly to my face, then away._

"_I apologize for the mistakes that were made, but the NUO isn't the rebel army. We have rules now that weren't in place during the war." He shifts uncomfortably in his chair; he knows what he did and he's ashamed of it. "We're a new organization and we're about to fall apart because of a renegade group. Just look out the window. They've hurt us badly. Do you want to let them destroy us completely?" He sounds broken, like he was already tired and breaking before the bombs fell and destroyed everything he had worked for.I can almost feel sorry for him. Almost. _

_"We don't know who these people are and what they plan to gain by attacking the base and killing people." Anger burns fast and furious in his eyes until he checks himself and sits back down in his chair. "It's like we're fighting shadows," he says, his voice calmer. "We think we know who they are and we try to get back at them, but they change shape and disappear. We can't fight them. We need help." He leans back in his chair and meets my eye. _

"_I don't know how much I can do," I say honestly. "I don't know if I can do anything at all."_

"_Being here is enough." My mind runs in wild circles, carefully considering the options lain before me. Stay or leave. Fight or surrender. Help them or watch them die._

"_I'll stay if you think it will help," I say, wondering if I just made a mistake. The General leans back and looks more relaxed. _

"_There's one more thing. Hawthorne. He's not going to be very happy that you're here…"_

**Gale's P.O.V**

After the initial shock wore off, we all moved into the last remaining buildings. Those who wanted to were told they could live in fallout shelter, but, understandably, all but a dozen people refused the offer. While we're rebuilding the base, I'm living in a 15 by 20 room with Abbott and another Commander. We should have more with us, but almost fifty people died in the bombing.

Including two of my cadets. Jordie Skimmer and Zevik Cagney. Another case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. My other cadets were surprised that I knew their names. I was in charge of sending their belongings back to their families. I couldn't leave it that though. I made sure their remains were sent back in the best caskets we could find. I found a picture of each of them in their uniform and I sent it to their families along with a letter written by yours truly talking about how bravely they fought and how much they'll be missed.

I also sent each family their savings and the rest of the year's paycheck.

And I split between them everything I've made so far.

I stare at the darkly shadowed ceiling and softly groan.

"Can't sleep?" Abbott asks me from the cot next to mine.

"Just thinking about the dead," I say, trying to sound nonchalant.

"There's no use in that," he says. "You can't bring them back. You'll only drive yourself crazy thinking about it."

"I'm going for a walk," I say, swinging out of bed and easing my weight carefully onto my leg. It's much stronger, thanks to the miracle of modern medicine, but it's by no means healed.

"Tell Madge I said hi," he says. I can hear the smile in his voice and I ignore the comment. Madge's room is in the other building in a painfully obvious attempt by the General to keep us apart. It's not working very well for him. We don't flaunt our relationship in his face, but we refuse to avoid each other. We eat meals in the kitchen with Arlo or with Abbott. We walk to training, or at least our poor attempt at training which, at least for us, involves clearing wreckage and trying to go back to normal. We spend all our free time together, behind closed doors, talking about the war and the bombing and constantly theorizing about the traitor. And kissing. Plenty of that, too.

I knock on her door, three short raps, a pause and then one. I smile to myself, remembering our earlier conversation in which she asked if we should have a code and I made this up. She opens the door a few seconds later, her tired eyes shining above her brilliant smile.

"Hi," she says softly, with a quick kiss.

"Let's go for a walk," I say, grabbing her hand. We follow the unfamiliar curving corridors. This was a back-up building, used for the surge of troops we're expecting next month due to the number of citizens who've enlisted. That means it's basically been abandoned. Not anymore, though. We open the front doors and walk into the cool night. I throw an arm over Madge's shoulders in an attempt to keep her warm. She leans into me, looping an arm around my waist.

"Abbott says hi," I say.

"Oh, our dear friend," she says with a sigh. These last few days we've grown very comfortable with each other, relaxing into an easy relationship that mimics nothing I've ever had before. Not with my family, my squad, or even with Katniss. She's the best friend I've ever had. I tighten my grip around her and kiss the top of her head. Thoughts of home fill my head, reminding me of my family and all the people I left behind. I abandoned the people whose lives I've saved.

"Do you ever want to go back to District 12?" I mutter into her hair. She stops quickly and we break apart.

"What?"

"Never mind," I say quietly. I shake off the thoughts of my family and try to focus on being here, with Madge. It's difficult. Memories of them wheedle into my consciousness, making me miss them more than usual.

"No," Madge says. "Tell me what you said." I meet her blazing eyes.

"Do you ever…think of home?"

"Constantly," she says, immediately, not thinking.

"Do you miss it?" I ask in a softer voice. She bites her lip and crosses her arms over her chest. A brief shiver passes over her.

"There's nothing left to miss," she says, not meeting my eye. I pull off my jacket and offer it to her. "Don't go all chivalrous on me," she says. "I'm fine." Goosebumps rise on her arms. I step forward and pull her towards me.

"I'm sorry I asked," I whisper into her hair.

"Let's walk," she says. "I'm freezing." A plan rushes into my head and I grin. I pull back and meet her eyes. "What?" she asks, eyeing me cautiously. I kiss her on the lips then lift her into my arms. "Hey!" she protests, breaking the kiss. "What are you doing?" She laughs and wriggles in my grasp, trying to get free.

"You said you're cold," I say walking down the cracked walkway.

"What did I _just_ say about chivalry?" she asks, flashing me a mildly amused glare.

"Some nonsense about it being overrated," I say. She struggles some more and I tighten my grip, trying to keep from stumbling.

"You're going to aggravate your injuries," she says as she twists around so she's facing me and pushes against my chest with her hands.

"You're making it worse by struggling," I say. She meets my eye briefly then relaxes, resting her head against my shoulder with a sigh.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Where do you want to go?"

She pulls herself close to me. "This chivalry thing is actually very nice." She wraps her hands around my neck and presses her frozen fingers against the back of it.

"Jeez, Madge." She laughs, her warm breath washing over me. "I've decided. We're going somewhere warm." She laughs again and presses her freezing face against my neck.

"Warm me up?" she asks, her eyes flashing. I stop walking and kiss her softly on the lips. "That's all I get?"

"Patience," I say with a laugh. She wrinkles her nose, kisses my cheek then rests her head against my shoulder. I walk in the entrance to the kitchen, flip on the lights then let her down.

"Cocoa? Coffee?" I offer.

"Coffee sounds good," she says.

"Good. I don't know how to make cocoa." She grabs the collar of my shirt and pulls me towards her. I put my hands on either side of her hips and lean my forehead against hers.

"I can't make you anything in this position," I warn.

"That's alright." She presses her lips against mine and twists her arms around my neck. "I like this _way_ more than coffee." I run my fingers through her long hair, marveling of the feel of it running through my fingers. I follow her hair halfway down her back and rub circles into her hard muscles. She plays with the hair at the base of my neck. I stifle a yawn and pull away, resting my forehead against her shoulder.

"You're tired," she says. I nod.

"It's been a long week."

"C'mon, Commander. Let's get you to bed." I stand up and kiss her forehead. "We don't-"

"Yes. We do." She kisses me once, jumps off the counter and grabs my hand.

"What're you doing?" I ask with a grin.

"Escorting you to your room."

"Isn't that my job?" She laughs then kisses my cheek.

"You're not the only one who can be chivalrous." I raise my eyebrows in disbelief then yawn again and inwardly curse myself. The door to the General's office opens and voices and light pour into the hallway. Three figures walk into the hallway then turn towards us.

I stop walking, stop breathing, stop thinking. The world narrows and all I see is the person in front of me. She notices me immediately. I can't pull my eyes off of her, no matter how much I want to. It's like I'm seeing a ghost.

"Katniss?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry this took so long! Enjoy the chapter!**

**Madge's P.O.V**

For what feels like an eternity, nobody moves. Nobody dares to speak or blink or even breathe. Time slows, tugging at memories and pulling them out to dance in our minds. Emblazoned in my vision is my golden Mockingjay pin. I think of everything it stands for. The Capitol's failure, Katniss's Quarter Quell torture and, most importantly, the Rebellion. And before me, the Mockingjay herself, in the last place I ever would have expected to see her. Her eyes are focused on Gale. She looks at him like you look at someone who has destroyed all your dreams, killed everyone you ever loved, broke your spirit and then left you there to die of heartbreak. The look sends daggers of ice into my heart.

Katniss's eyes find mine and she freezes. They widen in disbelief.

"Madge?" My name is a question, as if she can't allow herself to believe that I'm really here. For a tense minute I don't know whether or not to own up to my identity. She's from before; before I had a home, and a reason and Gale. She's from those evenings spent in the cellar of my captor, working away as her face smiled down at me from the television screen. She's from the time I'm trying to forget.

I nod once slowly and swallow. Her angry eyes flash as she turns to Gale. "You son of a bitch," she screams running at him. Peeta lunges forward and grabs her around the waist. She throws her elbows into him, trying to throw him off.

"I thought she was dead! They told me she was dead!" She strains against Peeta's grip, taking any shot she can get. "Why didn't you _tell _me? I thought she had _died!_" Peeta whispers into her ear. I stand, frozen, unable to do anything but watch. Her sad grey eyes, eyes that remind me so much of Gale's, find mine. "They told me you were dead." Katniss collapses into Peeta's arms as her gaze drops from mine and Peeta pulls her down the hallway and out of view. I feel like I've been emptied of emotion.

Dead. Everyone in District 12 thinks I'm dead.

Gale lets out a shuddering breath. I turn to face him, my eyes brimming with tears. His eyes are fixated on the place where Katniss was standing.

"Gale." His eyes flash up to me. He looks confused, like he forgot I was here. "Gale," I say more firmly as I step directly in front of him, forcing him to look at me.

"Madge," he says, as if recognizing my existence for the first time. Tears well in my eyes. He hasn't looked at me like that since we lived in District 12 and he didn't even know my name. "Sorry. I just—I didn't expect to see her here." I feel a tear roll down my face. His eyes darken with concern. "What's wrong?"

"I'm scared," I whisper, so quietly I fear he can't hear me.

"Of what?" He cups my face in his warm hands, wiping away my tears with his thumbs. I step forward and crush myself against him. He stiffens briefly then pulls me against him, his lips gently brushing the top of my head.

"Losing you." His entire body tenses.

"To Katniss." It's not a question. A tear rolls down my cheek, soaking into the fabric of his shirt as I nod. His arms drop from around me and he steps back. "You don't trust me." That's not a question either. "I saved your life. I'm risking everything for you. My rank, my job, my entire life." He steps farther away, putting more distance between us. "I told you I _loved _you. And you still don't trust me?" His voice rises until he's shouting. I shrink against his accusations. He takes an almost involuntary step forward; like he wants to stop my pain but he won't allow himself. "Why can't you trust me?" His voice comes out quieter. I know I've hurt him and that kills me.

"I'm sorry, Gale. It's just that you loved her for—"

"Loved. As in past tense. As in not anymore."

"You haven't seen her in months. How do you know for sure?" His eyes darken and his jaw tenses. He grabs my arm and pulls me towards the door.

"Gale. What are you—"

"Shut up." Tears stream down my face. He throws open the front door and pulls me into the field. "There," he screams. "Yell at me. Tell me what a bad person I am. Tell me about how I've been leading you on for months. Tell me about how I don't love you. Go on. Let it all out. I can take it."

"I don't want to yell at you," I say sternly, trying to appear level headed when all I actually want to do is scream until my lungs ache.

"You think you can just accuse me of not loving you? You think I'll let that go?" Something inside of me rises to the surface. I think it's been there all along; this horrible doubt that threatens to tear me into pieces.

"You don't understand! It's easy for you! I've never loved anyone else in my entire life but _you_!" The words pour out of me without me even having to think them. "Now Katniss is here and I'm afraid you're going to realize that I'm just second best."

"Second best? Are you _insane_?"

"You love be because I haven't had her to compete with! You only love _me_ because you can't have _Katniss_!" Gale's face goes bone white and all expression leaves his face. My words ring in the still night air. As soon as I say them I wish I could take them back, anything to take away that horrible look from his face.

"Goodbye, Madge." I can hear his words. I know their English. I know what each one means individually and I know that when put together they make sense and yet I can't grasp the concept.

I watch his back as he walks away from me, his proud shoulders straining against the fabric of his shirt. He walks militaristically, just like the soldier that he is. And then I understand. He's walking away from me. He's saying goodbye to me. He's leaving me.

In that moment, the world ends. I fall to the ground and lie back so that I'm staring at the stars that Gale hates so much. I'm too numb to cry; to do anything but breathe and think about how I messed everything up. I fall asleep to the sounds of falling rain and broken hearts.

**0.0.0**

**Gale's P.O.V.**

Madge's words are like a repeated blow, playing over and over in my head until their burned permanently into my memory. I shift around restlessly, staring at the ceiling and praying for morning. It's raining outside. The sound of raindrops on the roof only serves to fuel my restlessness. There's movement outside, something besides these four white walls and endless darkness. Finally, I can't take it anymore. I roll out of bed and make my way outside. The rain quickly soaks me. I walk past the field where Madge and I fought, the memories weighing heavy in my mind. I stand still for a second trying to regain my composure when I see a figure lying in the field. I make my way over to it, mentally preparing myself to see the face of a corpse, probably someone I knew from around the base.

It's Madge.

My heart speeds up and our argument is forgotten. I run over to her and fall to my knees beside her. What a stupid thing to fight over. I _know_ Madge trusts me and loves me. Why did I have to get angry? If Madge is hurt because I left her I'll never forgive myself. If Madge is dead…I refuse to finish the thought. My shaking fingers search her neck for a pulse. It's strong and steady.

She's asleep. A wave of relief passes over me. I brush wet strands of hair from her face. Her skin is cold from the rain and her lips are slightly blue. I pull her against me, cradling her in my arms and shielding her against the rain with my body. Her head bounces limply against my shoulder as I hurry inside.

The door to her room is left slightly open. I push inside and lie her down on her bed, then pull the covers over her. Her roommate wakes up and mumbles something about us waking her up in the middle of the night, but she's barely lucid and I don't care what she thinks. I wrap Madge's blankets tightly around her. The rainwater absorbed from her clothes quickly seeps through. I lie down beside her, lending her body warmth. I refuse to leave her or fall asleep, feeling an indescribable need to protect her, even when there's nothing to protect her from. I hold her cold body as the moon sets into the sky and is replaced by the sun.

Ten minutes before wake up, I sit up and move to the end of the bed so her roommates can't report me for anything. I watch Madge as she sleeps. She's always so exuberant, so full of passion and feeling and life. When she's asleep, she changes. Her features become softer and childlike. All the weight she usually carries on her overburdened shoulders falls away. Her gentle breathing lifts the wisps of hair stubborn enough to hang in her face. They rise and fall, like their dancing to the sound of her breath.

**0.0.0**

**Madge's P.O.V.**

When I wake up, I'm in my bed. It's morning already so I doubt either of my roommates is here. I look around, wondering why I'm still in bed and why I smell like dirt and rain when I remember what happened yesterday. I close my eyes and bury my head in the pillow, willing the tears welling in my eyes not to fall and my mind to forget everything that happened.

"Are you awake?" a voice asks. For a moment I think I'm dreaming. But the voice is so close, so real and so painfully familiar. Gale.

"No," I whisper weakly.

"Liar." He doesn't sound angry anymore. I sit up slowly and look at him. I flinch in surprise at his appearance.

"You look awful," I say, taking in his slumped shoulders and the bags under his dull, half-closed eyes. He's sitting at the edge of my bed watching me expressionlessly.

"Thanks," he says, shooting me a half-hearted glare. I feel my cheeks heat up.

"I didn't mean it like—"

"I know how you meant it," he says with a smile. I pull my knees against my chest and wrap my arms around them. I stare at a chip in the white wall paint, too afraid to meet his eyes in fear that they've turned angry once again. "I was worried about you," he says, breaking the silence. "I thought you were hurt or dead."

"I was hurt," I say, looking up at him. He flinches. It was a movement so tiny that if you didn't know him, you wouldn't know the comment affected him at all. "I thought you were leaving me."

"I could never do that," he says softly.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I do trust you. I trust you more than anyone else in the world. You need to know that." I take a deep breath, needing to say something but fearing it will turn into another fight. "I know you love me, but you loved Katniss forever. She's so—so strong and passionate and—and like you. And I'm so…not." I shrug and shift my gaze so that I'm staring at my knees. Gale kneels in front of me and pries my hands away from my knees and holds them in his own.

"I can't understand why you don't trust me to be around her." I shift my eyes up to look at him. He's staring down at our intertwined fingers. "I love you so damn much and I try so hard to show it." He takes one of my hands and flips it over, tracing the lines etched in my skin. "When I first got here, I had nightmares every night of Katniss's face when Prim died." He flinches visibly this time. Her death obviously hurts him in a way he's never shared with anyone before. "I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, could barely function. When you got here there was something about you that remind me of Katniss. At first, I think it was your determination. And after that it was your pride. Then I began to realize that you're nothing like her." His fingers find my face. He stares at me as he traces my features. "You're so much more. You're funny and compassionate and loving." His eyes close as his hands fall from my face. "I'm babbling. I never babble."

"I like it. It makes you more human." He keeps his eyes closed as he grins. I touch my fingertips to his cheek and turn his head so he's facing me. His eyes flicker open. "I love you." He pulls me towards him until we're so close that I can feel his breath washing across my face.

"I love you, too." He kisses me briefly. His hungry eyes cut into mine, making me shiver under their intensity. "I love you so much." His lips find mine again and he holds onto me, crushing me so close to him that there's not a whisper of air between us. I bring my arms around his neck and twist his hair in my fingers, marveling at the smooth, silky feeling. His hands trace the curve of my back, wrapping around me as they move. My heart pounds so strongly I fear it's going to beat right out of my chest. Gale breaks away suddenly and I stiffen, worried that I've done something wrong. I relax when I realize it's because he's yawning.

"It's time for you to go to bed, Commander," I say with a grin. He grimaces and finds my lips again.

"I don't want to," he whispers stubbornly, his lips brushing against mine as he speaks. He kisses me again, so strongly my head spins. His head drops down to my shoulder as he yawns again. I shift away from him. My hands move to his cheeks and lift up his head so that I'm looking at him. I don't think he slept at all last night. I kiss his lips lightly and pull farther away so that he's not tempted.

"Lie down," I command.

"Here?"

"You need to sleep," I say softly.

"What about training?"

"I'll tell the General you saw Katniss and you're not up to it," I say. "It's more or less the truth."

"I didn't sleep last night because I was worried I lost you," he says quietly, correcting me. He leans forward to kiss me, but I turn away so that his lips land on my cheek. He pulls back with a sigh. I stand up so he has room to lie down. He stretches out on my bed as I make my way to the door.

"Good night," I say, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"Good night?" he asks. I bite my lip and shift my weight to my left leg. "Come here."

"What if the General comes in and—"

"The General can do whatever the Hell he wants." He shifts so that he's sitting up. "If he wants to fire me for loving you, than he can fire me. Being a Commander means nothing to me if I can't be with you." I stand in the doorway, struggling to maintain my composure. "Come here." This time I listen. I stretch out next to him and feel his arms go around me. Minutes later, he falls asleep, his slow rhythmic breathing making my eyes go heavy. I drift to sleep in the circle of his arms.


	15. Chapter 15

**Gale P.O.V**

Katniss has been in District 2 for three weeks and still hasn't spoken a word to me. It's maddening, seeing her everyday and knowing there's so much weighing on the space between us. I see Katniss and I think of Prim; the innocent little girl who was forced to grow up too fast. The same girl Katniss accuses me of killing. She isn't the only one who blames me for Prim's death. I blame myself. I steal a glance at Madge, sitting at my side, and feel my stomach flip. I still have yet to tell Madge about my demons.

I watch as Katniss walks across the dining hall, stopping to talk to soldiers, acting the part of the strong military leader. They all forgave her so easily for murdering Coin. Truth be told, I forgave her just as easily. It makes me sick to think of how fickle we all are. We follow one leader and swear to protect her with our lives, and then welcome her murderer into our arms.

Madge's hand finds mine. She knots our fingers together and leans her head against my shoulder.

"You know, you have the ability to approach her yourself," she says softly. Katniss turns and catches me watching her. A look of disgust crosses her face. Peeta, constantly by her side, places a reassuring hand on her back and gently pushes her forward, successfully breaking our gaze.

"I think I'll pass on that." She kisses my shoulder than stands.

"Training time, Commander." Over the past few weeks, things have gone back to normal—or at least as close to normal as we can achieve at this point. I grab my tray and Madge's and carry it to the return counter where Arlo is talking to a soldier. He grins at us as we pass. I take Madge's hand and head out onto the training field, which mostly survived the bombing. As we leave, we see the General. Madge drops my hand and I take a step away. The General catches my eye and nods. He has yet to decide what to do about us, but we haven't done anything—or rather he hasn't _seen_ anything—that's given cause for him to fire either of us. Once we round the corner, she grabs my hand again.

"I hate these games," I mutter. She leans lightly against me.

"I know. Give it some time."

"You know I'm not patient." She gives a light laugh and bumps her shoulder affectionately against mine.

"What do you have planned for training today?" she asks me.

"Laps. Lots and lots of laps."

"You're cruel." I laugh and kiss the top of her head. She opens the front door and a wave of cold immediately washes over us. She gasps softly and leans into me. "It's cold." I laugh.

"I'm sure the laps will warm you up." She glares at me.

"Funny." She drops my hand again as we walk onto the training fields. Most of the other soldiers are already grouped in the middle. I take a deep breath and take up the air of the Commander who demands respect from his soldiers. I check my watch. The remaining soldiers have five minutes to get here. I watch as Madge talks to the other soldiers, laughing with them. It makes me happy to see how seamlessly she fits in with everyone else. I take a deep breath of the cold air and let it center my focus.

"Line up!" I call. The effect is immediate. A quick roll call tells me that everyone's here. "Let's start with twenty laps." I meet Madge's irritated gaze and suppress a smirk.

**0.0.0**

"Not. Funny." Madge leans forward, bracing her hands against her knees.

"What?" I ask, putting on the face of innocence. She glares in response. She struggles to get her breath back after the grueling conditioning training I just put the soldiers through. I try to muster up sympathy, but I know the training does more help then harm. She groans and stands straight. I grab onto her hand. Beneath her cold skin I can feel her rapid pulse.

"You will—pay for that," she says, her breath coming in and out in gasps. I shoot her a sheepish grin.

"I can make it up to you," I offer.

"How do you—suppose to do that?" I give her my most evil grin and pull her into a small space between two buildings. She stumbles behind me, struggling to keep up. "Gale—" I cut her off with a kiss and push her back until she hits the brick wall. Her warm breath, still heavy from the workout, fans across my face. I place my hands on either side of her head and pull back. Her wide blue eyes stare up at me under her thick lashes and my stomach flips.

I kiss her again, longer and slower. Her hands trail up my chest to my shoulders. My heart speeds up to match the pace of her own. My lips trail from hers to her cheek then down her neck, giving her a chance to breathe. Her flesh tastes salty from the sweat. She pulls me back to her lips. Her fingers find their way into my hair and twine in the strands. When she breaks away, her breath is heavier then it was after training.

"Alright. You made it up to me." I kiss the spot where her shoulder meets her neck.

"Are you sure?" I hear her swallow.

"Yes?" she squeaks, the response more a question then a definitive answer. Her pulse jumps frantically under my lips. I grin and kiss her again. She shivers. "I love you," she says softly against my lips.

"I love you, too."

**0.0.0**

With some luck, I manage to make it through the building without encountering anyone. Before Madge and I parted this afternoon, we agreed to meet on the training fields after curfew. I step out the door and am greeted by a wave of cold air. The seasons are changing faster than we anticipated. If we don't start the rebuild soon, we'll have to wait until spring which will put us even farther behind.

To my surprise I see Katniss walking towards me, her long braid bumping against her shoulder with her every step. This is the first time I've seen her alone since she came to the base. Our eyes meet and she turns away, hurriedly walking in the opposite direction. Anger I didn't know was inside of me surges to the surface.

"Katniss!" I yell after her. She stops but doesn't turn. I walk forward until I'm standing directly behind her. "What's your problem?" She's perfectly still except from an almost unnoticeable tightening in her shoulders. "What happened to _my _Katniss? The one who didn't back away from a challenge? Do you remember that Katniss? Or did you forget like you forgot me?" Katniss whirls on me without a warning, her face a mask of anger.

"_Forget _you? How could I _forget_ you? Your face _plagues_ my nightmares. I _can't_ forget you as much as I want to. Trust me, I've tried." She turns to walk away, then stops, turning to face me again. "And what about _you_? I thought you were kind, and strong and protective of the people you love. But it turns out you're just a murderer," she hisses the words. Her cruelty turns my body to ice. "You remember that, Gale? Do you remember killing Pr—my sister?" Katniss's voice rises and rises until it breaks.

"You know I didn't mean for that to happen," I say softly, feeling more pain then I know how to express. "I loved her like she was my sister. You _know_ that."

"Then why did you kill her!" I feel flustered, unsure how to answer the questions I don't know the answers to.

"I didn't mean to. That wasn't what was planned. I didn't—I would never—" I break off. I can't say the things she needs so desperately to hear and that fact kills me.

"I trusted you."

"I—"

"You told me you _loved _me. How could you—" She ducks her head so I can't see her face, but I know she's crying. I've known her long enough to know all the little things she does; the way she narrows her eyes when she's lying or the way she raises her chin when she gets angry. The way she turns her head down when she cries so nobody can see her tears. "Did you know that everyone in the Hob thought we were going to get married?" she asks, looking into my eyes. I nod slowly.

"I think I believed that for awhile too." We stand silently for awhile, staring into the eyes of what could have been, but can't be. "If I could change things for you, I would."

"If only we had the ability to change the past." I think of Madge and of how much I love her. _Would I give up Madge for a chance at Katniss?_ I cut off that line of thought before I can give myself an answer I don't want to hear. "This doesn't change anything," she says.

"I know."

"I can't forgive you." I take a step towards her, closing the small distance between us. She doesn't move away.

"I know."

"We can't be friends."

"I know."

"So this has to be goodbye," she says softly.

I tip my head down and press my lips gently against hers. She doesn't resist. I think we both need this. Closing a chapter of our lives with something innocent and untainted with hatred. One good memory among a graveyard full of bad ones. I pull away and rest my forehead against hers.

"I know. Goodbye Katniss." I step away from her and give her a smile. She grins back. I know she's not smiling at me, but at the person I used to be to her. The person who she has to say goodbye to once and for all.

And then I see something that makes my heart stop.

Something I should have seen coming the moment I pressed my lips to Katniss's because this damn world refuses to cut me a break.

Some_one _who looks heartbroken.

Madge.

**Madge's P.O.V.**

Numb. All I feel is numb. Gale takes a step towards me and I back away, affectively breaking the spell.

"Madge—"

"No," I say. I feel something wet slide down my face. A distant part of me registers it as a tear.

"Madge. It's not what—"

"Stop. Don't talk to me."

He walks towards me with his hand extended towards me. I back away to avoid his touch. "_Please_, Madge. Let me expla—"

"Shut up," I yell. Something inside of me breaks. Anger and heartbreak roll over me in waves. I turn and run away from me, trying to fight back the inevitable flood of tears. Gale follows closely behind me.

"Leave me alone!" I yell, turning to face him. Gale freezes a look so pained crosses his face that I feel an urge to run to him, but I push it down.

"Madge, please listen to me."

"You told me you didn't love her!" I yell. "You said you were done! I _trusted_ you, and you _lied_ to me!"

"I didn't mean it, Madge. I _swear _to you, it was a mistake."

"You don't—you don't get to—to tell me—" I can't breathe, I'm crying so hard. My knees shake, threatening to collapse from under me. I struggle to get in a good breath. Gale's hand gently touches my shoulder. I wrench myself out of his reach.

"Madge. _Please_ let me help you." I furiously wipe at the tears cascading down my face. "I love you," he says softly. "I love you so much it hurts me." I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm for another moment.

"No you don't Gale. If you loved me, you wouldn't have—" I swallow, forcing back the vomit in my throat and struggle to compose myself. "Get away from me. We're done." I swallow, and bring my eyes up to his anguished gaze. "I'm done with you."

I walk away from him.

He doesn't follow.


	16. Chapter 16

**You asked and I answered. Here's the chapter my lovely reviewers have been bugging me for. It's short so sorry but it's not very plot-y.**

**Here's a shout-out to my FABULOUS beta, Intergrity21. Couldn't do it without you **

**Disclaimer: In case you thought I was Suzanne Collins, I'm not. Although I *truly* don't think that was a problem…**

**GALE'S P.O.V**

I stand outside the closed door and place my hand flat against the weathered wood. I feel a pulse, and even though logic tells me it's my own, I can't help but think it's the pulse of this place that's been my home for the past few months. I curl my hand into a fist and rap lightly on the door. Peeta's surprised face appears.

"Gale."

"Peeta," I say with a nod.

"Are you here for Katniss because sh—"

"I'm not here to talk to Katniss."

"Alright," he says, slipping out of the door and closing it behind him. Peeta's eyes flash and his finger's tighten into fists. He follows my gaze and forces himself to relax. "You don't bring back the most pleasant memories," he confesses, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Understandable." We stand silently in the hallway. Peeta doesn't push me to talk, but he seems visibly uncomfortable. I take a deep breath. "Did Katniss tell you about…?" A confused expression crosses Peeta's face. He crosses his arms in front of his chest in a defensive position.

"About what?"

"It's not my place to tell you," I say. My stomach clenches. For some strange reason unbeknownst even to myself, I feel a strong urge to tell Peeta, who for months was my sworn enemy, the truth. The problem is I've seen the effect the truth, when misinterpreted, can cause to somebody. Madge's anguished face appears suddenly in my mind and I struggle to keep my resolve intact.

"What is it Gale?" Peeta asks, sounding nervous.

"I kissed Katniss," I blurt out without really meaning too. Peeta blinks and for a second I'm afraid he's going to lose it. I brace myself for the punch that, until now, I didn't even know I was craving. I guess I'm a masochist now. I wonder if there's a support group I can join. Peeta's face goes blank, but he doesn't move.

"Does she love you?" he asks me. I laugh at that.

"No way in hell."

"Do you want to kiss her again?"

"Not at all."

"Did you hurt her?" he asks me.

"I hurt myself more than I hurt her," I say with a grimace. His blue eyes turn hard and unyielding as his face turns to stone.

"Did. You. Hurt. Her." Five minutes ago, if you asked me if Peeta could scare me I would have laughed in your face. Now…my answer would definitely be different. The way Peeta's looking at me makes me think that if he wanted to kill me in this instant no one, not me, not the General, not even Katniss herself, would be able to stop him.

"I don't think so." His face relaxes into the easy grinned I learned from watching his interviews. He rubs the back of his head with his hand and grins at me a little sheepishly.

"Then we're fine." Someone once told me that Peeta was a better person than I am and ever will be. I laughed at them and proceeded to call Peeta a spineless wimp. Now I understand their point. Peeta Mellark, even emotionally unstable as he is now, has managed to forgive me for kissing the girl he's been in love with his entire life. The girl who's attention we were battling for, for months. "I don't blame you, Gale. Or hate you," he says. "The list of people I hate is long enough already."

"I guess I don't hate you either."

"I'd say we could be friends but…" Yeah. But.

"Maybe in a different life." I cross my arms in front of my chest and suddenly feel stupid. Peeta's eyes scan my face. They make me feel self conscious; like he's learning more about me in that glance then I want him to know.

"Why are you really here?" he asks me. I swallow hard, trying to work down the lump of dread fighting its way up my throat.

"Madge. She…she saw us—me and Katniss—and she thought...I don't know what she thought." I feel weak all of a sudden, like my legs suddenly decided that they didn't want to work anymore. I slam a hand against the wall to steady myself. "She's so hurt. I don't know how to make it better." Peeta's face goes blank. "

"I don't know if you can." I drop into a crouch, for a second, trying to make myself smaller. Maybe if I'm smaller all of my fears won't be able to find me anymore.

"I can't lose her," I say softly.

"At this point, it's not really your choice."

"Why can't she be more like you!" I shout, jumping out of the crouch. I begin to frantically pace a small length of the hallway. "Why can't she just—just listen to me and…"

"Gale. She just saw you kiss the person you used to love. What's she supposed to think?"

"If that's the way it is then why aren't you angry, Peeta? Why aren't you furious and hurt like she is?"

"Katniss and I are time tested. We've already been through the me versus you thing and I won. No offense," he adds quickly, as if not wanting to injure my already fragile ego. "I know she loves me. She knows I love her. We trust each other. That's that."

"Are you saying I don't trust Madge? Or love her?"

"What's wrong with you, Gale?" Peeta asks, resuming some of the hardness that frightened me before. "Are you trying to start a fight with me?" I step back until my back hits a wall and sink to the floor.

"No," I say softly. "I just—" I look up at Peeta and understand why I went to see Peeta. I want to hurt Katniss. I want Peeta to be as heartbroken over her as Madge is over me. I want her to feel that responsibility. I want the outside of me to be as wounded as the inside. The realization is like a slap. What I'm doing is cruel. I clench my jaw and stand. "I have to go."

"Gale," Peeta shouts after me. I freeze but I don't turn. "If she loves you enough, she'll come back to you," he says.

"And if she doesn't?"

He pauses. "Then you were never meant to be."

**MADGE'S P.O.V**

Everything is in sharp contrast to what it was before.

Before there was light and laughter and love and I felt like I could sing and dance until the end of the world. I felt like I could _breathe._

Now there's the white of the wall. There's the pain in my chest that I'm desperately trying to destroy. There's a strange exhaustion creeping in on me. Air refuses to reach my lungs. There are times when I don't think I'm breathing at all. I try to move but my limbs feel heavy.

If I didn't know better I'd think I was dead.

There's a knock on the door. I curl in on myself, hoping that whoever it is will go away when they realize that I'm not here; not really at least.

The knocking persists until the person gives up with pleasantries and opens the door anyway.

"Madge?" a voice asks. The voice I've heard everywhere between Capitol interviews to Rebel propos to my own living room.

"Go away, Katniss," I choke out. I'm surprised to find that I still have a voice.

"Let me explain," she pleads. I curl up tighter. My elbows dig into my stomach. "Gale's in l—"

"Don't say his name," I say, feeling panicked. I dig my nails into my palms. A trickle of blood falls over my wrist then drops onto the pristine white bed sheets.

"It was just a kiss, Madge!" she says. I press my face against my fists. _Just a kiss. Just a kiss just a ._ She doesn't know what she's saying.

"To you maybe; To me—it was—it was watching him turn his back on me. On what we fought for. For you. Of all people." I steal a peek at Katniss. She looks exhausted. "Did you know that he _promised _me that he didn't love you? He told me to trust him around you and I _did_." I uncurl myself and sit up for the first time in I don't know how long.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "And Gale is too." Her eyes flash as she says his name. I choke down the anger and sadness that's threatening to choke me. "Gale Hawthorne is _in love with you_, Madge. Madly, head over heels in love with you; he's also a boy which makes him dumb." She grins. I don't. The smile drops from her face. "Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and do something about it." And just like that an idea takes form in my head. And then I act.

Before Katniss can blink I'm out of the room. She says something after me but I ignore her. Instead I head straight to General Amatore's office.

I burst in without knocking.

"Madge!" he says, looking up from the files in front of me.

"I'm done."

"What?"

"I quit. I'm finished."

"With training?"

"This whole damn base. Consider this my resignation. I'm going back to District 12."


	17. Chapter 17

**I've been inspired by the outpouring (or 7 as my sister so kindly pointed out) of comments coming from you, my lovely readers. You're predictions made me squee (which isn't a word according to my computer) because they were all so WRONG. So here's the next chapter for you lovely people. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. This is another short-y but (I hope at least) good-y.**

**MADGE'S P.O.V.**

"What do you mean you resign!" Amatore asks, standing abruptly to face me. "You can't resign! As far as Panem is concerned, you are still a prisoner and working here is your rehabilitation. To resign would mean being sent to a detention camp where you _will _be given the proper trial you were saved from before. I promise you that the jury seeing to your trial will not be as forgiving as your jury here was."

"Fine. Do whatever you have to in order to get me _out of here_." The General grips the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white from the strain. I remain in the doorway, using the frame as an invisible shield between me and Amatore.

"Do you even understand what you're asking me to do?" he asks. His booming voice is concealed by a tense whisper; the menace carried within his words scares me more than the words themselves.

"It doesn't strike me as something to hard to comprehend."

"Don't be smart with me," he practically snarls. "As much as you'd like to escape it, I am still your superior and you will show me respect." I cross my arms over my stomach and bite my tongue.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. He exhales loudly and sits back down.

"I never know what to do with you, Undersee. You are the hardest working recruit we have and losing you would be bad for the base. On the other hand you're a criminal and it would almost be a relief to get rid of you." He leans back in his chair and rubs his face roughly with his hand. "Ultimately," he says, not meeting my gaze, "it is not your decision to make." I dig my fingernails into the skin of my arm. I don't realize how hard I'm gripping until I feel a rivulet of blood trickle down my arm. "I see no good reason to let you go. The system _will _treat you harshly," he warns. The General sits up and meets my gaze. "Paylor and her new government aren't very sympathetic to Capitol sympathizers."

"But I'm not—"

"I know that. This whole base knows that. The people at the detention center will not know that. They will see you only as a threat that must be dealt with through any means possible." My stomach roils at the idea of this possibility.

"And that's the only option?" I ask quietly.

"There _is _another," he says. I feel myself perk up. For the first time in forty-eight hours, I feel a smile creep onto my face. "Stay here." The expression leaves before it has a chance to fully form.

"I can't."

"Why not?" I stare at the tips of my regulation boots and try to wipe away the images of Katniss and _him_ that seem to be painted onto my very conscious.

"Complications," I say simply.

"What did Hawthorne do to you?" he asks. "Or vice versa, I suppose." My eyes flash to his knowing gaze. "All you soldiers are the same. You think I'm blind to the little things that go on around me, as if Gale's moping through the hallways or your hiding in your quarters goes unnoticed."

"It doesn't matter," I say. "We're over and I can't stand to be here anymore."

"I wish I could help you out, Undersee, but my only option is to keep you here and reassign you to a new Commander or to send you to the—"he stops and cocks his head to the side, listening intently to something. "Do you hear—" he opens his desk drawer and his eyes widen. "Run! Tell them—"

But he never got to finish his sentence.

At that exact second a bomb, planted within the inside wall of his desk drawer, detonated.

He never got to finish any sentence, ever again.

**0.0.0**

The door slammed shut with the impact of the explosion, but the shockwave was still enough to send me crashing into a wall. My vision goes red and the world spins around me. I try to stand but the dizziness overtakes me and sends me crashing to the floor. I crawl forward and push open the still intact, titanium door. The General's office is completely gutted. The walls are covered in black smoke and residue. The only thing left of Amatore is the scent of burning flesh.

Vomit crawls up into my throat. I scurry backwards until I reach the wall. The scent stays with me, soaking into my clothes, my hair, my skin, and taking up permanent residence. I dry heave as my body tries desperately to expel the unnatural scent from itself.

In an instant I understand what's happening.

We were right all along.

This is an inside job.

And whoever's doing it isn't going to stop with Amatore.

Soldiers begin pouring into the hallway, alerted by the explosion. I stumble to my feet, using the wall as support. Abbott is one of the first people on scene and he rushes to my side.

"Are you alright?" he frets. I nod, not trusting my voice. I grip onto his arms, forcing him to support my body weight.

"Amatore's dead," I choke out. My voice sounds rough from the smoke and vomit and is tainted with anxiety and fear. Abbott's hands tighten around my upper arms.

"You were with him?" he asks me. I nod slowly. My head aches from the impact. The simple movement sets off a wave of pain that overtakes my entire body. His eyes flash then return to their steely grey color. "Come with me," he says. He hurries down the hall, using an arm around my waist as a useless crutch.

"Abbott," I choke. He stops and looks at me. "I can't—"

"Right." He lifts me into his muscled arms.

"Where are we going?" I ask. He stays silent, his eyes focused firmly ahead of him. I touch the back of my pounding head. My fingers come away stained in blood.

"You're going to help me," he answers cryptically. I cradle my bloodied fingers against my chest, hoping that my head is bleeding this much for the simple fact that it's a head wound and not because I'm wounded as badly as I appear to be. Abbott hurries us outside onto the training fields and then through the gate separating the base from the rest of District 2.

"Abbott—"

"We're almost there," he says. About two hundred feet outside of the base and concealed by a cover of trees is a hovercraft. Abbott sets me down and leads me by the arm towards the hovercraft.

"What's going on?" I ask. My throat aches from the effort of talking and my vision remains blurred. Armed men stand at the entrance to the hovercraft. Their faces are masked.

"Gale told me to get you. We learned that Capitol rebels are attacking the base. We tried to get to Amatore, but time ran out. We're taking ship loads of people to safety. You have to trust me on this, Madge." My stomach churns at his words, but I let him lead me onto the hovercraft.

Just beyond the entrance, in the main area of the plane, sits Gale. I swallow and take a shaky step forward. He looks up to see what's happening and his eyes land on me. He freezes as his eyes take on an expression I've never seen them have before.

Fear.

"RUN!" he screams. For a moment I'm confused by his reaction.

But only a moment.

Everything happens impossibly fast. Just as about a dozen guns are being drawn, Gale stands and screams for me to move, run, get away. Just when I'm wondering whether or not he's completely lost his mind I notice something peculiar.

His hands are bound behind his back.

In the next second I realize something even stranger.

All the guns are pointed at _me_.

I take a shaky step towards Gale. A million emotions pass over his face in a single second. I can tell he realizes that there is no way I can make it out on my own. I turn quickly to face Abbott, knowing that if the three of us are to come out of this alive we'll need to work together.

Do you remember when you were a child and everything was black and white? People were separated into two categories: Good and Evil. Your parents were the perfect Good. The schoolyard bullies were unspeakable Evil. There was no grey. You were Good. You were Evil. Or you didn't exist. And those Good people were the ones you could trust above all others and rely on. They never deceived you or let you down, at least not in a way that your juvenile mind could comprehend. And you _knew_, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you could _trust_ these Good people with everything you had. Then we grow up and we think we learn that that is not the way of the world; that there are these shades of grey that we never thought were possible. We _think_ we understand everything. We _think _that growing up takes the child away from you. Newsflash:

We are all children.

Silly, trusting children.

And the kicker is you never know it until a person you trusted with your life shows just how grey he is.

The sight I faced when I turned around?

Abbott with a gun pointed at my chest.

And then there was nothing.


	18. Chapter 18

**Quick physics lesson which will pertain to the chapter:**

**Electricity: A person can take A LOT of volts of electricity and survive (I'm talking in the millions here). What really kills a person are the amps. Up to .1 amps, the victim will experience muscle contractions, painful shocks, severe burns and difficulty breathing. Between 0.1 amps and 0.2 amps is the death threshold. In this range there is just enough shock to send your heart into ventricular fibrillation (essentially a heart attack; the chambers of your heart stop beating in synch causing everything to go wrong and, eventually, death). Above 0.1 and 0.2 amps, the heart muscle seizes with the rest of your muscles, allowing you a better chance at survival, although you will have very severe burns and most likely will need resuscitation, but the survival rate is higher. In the chapter I mention 9000 volts (about that of a very strong cattle prod). Ignore the scientific wrongness of this. I know the majority of people will see the word "physics" and ignore it, so I thought 9000 volts sounded more serious than .09 amps (because the point isn't for the person affected by the amps to die).**

**On another note, I'm looking for a new beta so if anybody's interested send me a message!**

**Thanks for reading and my most sincerest apologies for making you wait so long.**

The first things I notice as I begin to gain consciousness are the conflicting smells of blood and antiseptic. My limbs feel as though they've been weighed down. I blink my eyes and see an expanse of blinding white. The brightness sears my tired eyes and I roll over with a groan.

"Madge?" says a voice beside me. I shake my head, trying to dislodge the grogginess. Rough, warm hands encase my face. I didn't realize I was freezing until now. I force myself to confront the source of the voice.

"Gale," I mutter, my voice hoarse form disuse. He grins and runs his thumb over my cheek. "What happened?" I sit up slowly, watching as the room spins wildly around me.

"They hit you with a tranquilizer. You've been out for almost twenty-four hours." I hear the sound of teeth clacking together. It takes me a minute to connect the sound with the almost painful sensation in my mouth. My hands, sitting atop my grey clad knees, tremble. "You're cold," Gale says. I tear my gaze away from my shaking hands and look at him. He's dressed entirely in grey, as I am. I'm afraid to ask him who dressed me. He lowers himself next to me and wraps his arms around my shoulders. I sink into his embrace, relishing in the feel of the warmth radiating off of his body.

"I don't forgive you," I whisper. His arms tighten around me, like he's unwilling to let me go.

"I expected as much." I allow my eyes to flicker shut and focus on the rapid beating of his heart.

"Do you know where we're going?"

"Somewhere we most definitely don't want to be." I hear the creak of a door hinge. My eyes shoot open.

"It's awake!" the soldier cries. The handsomeness of his features surprises me. His sharp eyes are the same green color as sun dappled leaves. They show a distinct contrast to his rumpled black hair which looks perfectly imperfect. His jaw line is sharp and masculine. He has no fault except for a scar running through his left eyebrow and over his cheekbone, turning down the corner of his eye on its path. Gale drops his arms from around me and stands up, angling his body so that he's standing slightly in front of me.

"Her name is Madge. Try and act like you weren't raised by animals," Gale quips. The soldier ignores him. Two more soldiers walk in as back up.

"Well then," a red-haired soldier says with a sneer. "What new games can we play today?" Gale moves so that he's standing directly between me and the enemy. If I wasn't so tired I would protest, but the effects of the tranquilizer have yet to fully wear off and are leaving me sluggish.

"That depends, Liam. Do you think she's still," he pauses, running his eyes over my body, "pure?" I feel my hands curl into fists at my sides. Every muscle in Gale's body goes stiff, like he's preparing for a fight.

The beautiful soldier laughs. "Look at the way the barbarian is protecting her. The little slut probably lost all of her..._purity_, long ago." Gale's shoulders rise and fall more rapidly. I can see he's visibly restraining himself, refusing to show the bastards that they're striking a nerve. My opinion is let them try. I'll make sure they never touch another woman again.

"You heard, Abbott," the third soldier said. "The Commander, here, is the real slut. I heard he was fooling around with Katniss Everdeen. And we all know how crazy _she_ is." Gale lets out a sound somewhere between a growl and a hiss. The soldiers laugh. I bite my lip, struggling against the instinct to fight back. I rest my hand gently on Gale's shoulder, silently willing him to ignore the soldiers.

"Maybe if we ask nicely," Liam says slowly approaching the bars and staring right at Gale, "he'll share." A thin rivulet of blood runs across Gale's closed fist from where his nails have pierced the calloused skin of his hand. He shakes with anger.

"Hey, Hawthorne," the handsome soldier says. "You don't mind if we steal your little bitch for awhile, right? We promise we won't hurt her...much." Gale's reserve snaps and he lunges at the bars. He freezes as he hits them, his entire body going rigid until he collapses to the ground in a heap. I hurry over to him and run my hands over his neck, searching for a pulse point.

"Did we forget to mention the gate is currently emitting 9000 volts of electricity?" the third soldier asks in mock horror. He glances at his companions and shrugs. "Whoops." After a few anxious seconds of searching, I feel Gale's heart pounding steadily beneath my finger tips. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. It was only enough to stun him." I loop my forearms under Gale's armpits, lock my fingers together over his chest and tug. He's heavier then I would have expected, and in my tired state, his weight is almost too much for me. I lie him down at the foot of the platform I've been using for a bed. I have high doubts in my ability to pull him up onto it so I leave him there, cradling his head safely in my lap. I press my hand to his flushed cheeks, humming softly to myself in an attempt to drown out the soldiers. Eventually they grow tired of me and leave.

**0.0.0**

Hours later, Gale stirs. His eyes blink open for a second and he goes rigid then relaxes when he sees who he's with. "That was dumb," he whispers. I laugh quietly and run my fingers through his surprisingly soft hair.

"Yes. It was." We're silent for a second. Gale catches my free hand, interlacing our fingers, and rests it on his shoulder. I feel him take a deep breath before he sits up and turns to face me. His eyes scan my face as if he's trying to memorize it.

"I'm sorry, Madge," he whispers softly. I look down at my bare feet rather than meet his eye. "That thing with Katniss...it was a goodbye kiss." That sounds like such a beautiful lie. If only I could allow myself to buy into it. "I don't expect you to believe me," he says, grabbing onto both of my hands. "But it's the truth and I will spend every day from now until forever trying to prove it to you." I feel tears make their way into my eyes. Sneaky little bastards. I'm still mad at Gale, can't they see that? I bite my lip and stand up, trying to put some distance between us. "I love you, Madge. Always you and only you. Until the day I die."

"If you loved me you wouldn't—"

"No." He stands up, stumbling a little, and moves so close to me that I can feel the heat radiating off his body. "Don't say 'if.' I love you. More than I thought it was possible to love another person. You are _everything_ to me. You _own _me. I am more yours than I am anything else."

"That doesn't change anything, Gale." A tear rolls down my face, warm and gentle. I wipe it away before he can notice, but I bet he does anyway. He notices everything.

"Maybe not for you. But for me, it does." I can feel his warm breath was over me. "I love you, Madge," he says with such complete surety that I feel myself give in a little.

"Gale—" I whisper, trying to edge my way in.

"Always you and only you." He brings his hand up to touch my face, then drops it to his side.

"Gale—"

"Don't. Please. I don't know if I'd be able to bare it if you were to reject me now." And those words get me thinking. We may die here. His could be the last face I ever see. Is that a bad thing? Sure, I would like to have many more years. Get married. Have children. Maybe serve my country before my real life begins. And in all of these scenarios, I want to be with Gale. And that's the key. I want to be with Gale. I _want _his to be the last face I ever see. And I love him. I never stopped. And I never will.

I lean forward and kiss him, drinking it in like he's the only thing in the world I need to live and the only thing in the world left to live for. His lips are strong on mine, warm and caring, just as they always were. They feel like home.

0.0.0

Gale and I sit side by side on the floor, our backs resting against the concrete wall and our hands intertwined. Every once in a while I catch him looking at me as if he was a dying man and I was the one who saved him from his fate. It feels indescribably perfect to be with him again.

"This room wasn't exactly the ideal place for our inevitable reunion," Gale says, staring at the boring white ceiling, featureless with the exception of a fluorescent light bulb. I laugh and rest my head against his shoulder.

"You mean you don't like the décor?"

"It reminds me of my room too much," Gale says.

"I thought you said you liked your room the way it was."

"I lied. I find it terribly depressing, but I'm not really one for interior design." It felt strange, having such a normal conversation in such a dire place. Gale kisses my forehead, letting his lips linger on my skin. "I want to be glad I'm here with you," he murmurs, "but I feel as though that would be selfish."

"Then I guess I'm a little selfish, too," I say.

"I wonder why they haven't separated us?" he says.

"If _I _was the evil kidnapper-slash-bomber, I definitely would have separated us. Our captors clearly aren't well versed in the art of torture."

"I wouldn't say that," says a new voice. In an instant, Gale is on his feet, his entire demeanor changed in a second.

"Abbott," I whisper, standing up more slowly.

"Traitor," Gale pushes out through his teeth. "You cowardly—" I place a hand on Gale's shoulder to stop the insults. Abbott's face is clouded in such agony that I can't help but to put aside my own anger.

"Look at his face Gale."

"I don't think—"

"No, Gale. _Look_." Gale's shoulders relax a little, but he doesn't let his guard down. "Why?" I whisper to Abbott.

There's an old saying from District 12. It's something like "the straw that broke the camel's back". It refers to something small that breaks something strong. I'd like to say it applies to Abbott, but it can't, because what I'm witnessing is so much more. It's like that one, barely uttered, almost inaudible word broke his entire soul. Everything he was holding behind his careful built façade came pouring out so quickly and so powerfully that I staggered backwards from the shock of it.

Abbott fell to his knees, no longer able to support himself and started crying. No, weeping. Big, heaving sobs that looked like they should break him, but somehow didn't. He practically screams as he cries, his words muffled my his hands as he clenches his blonde hair within them. I stand there, staring at the man that was the ultimate Brutus, and I understood one truth:

Abbott did not want to betray us.

After seconds—or maybe minutes or maybe hours; time had no meaning at that point—he stopped. He stopped and he stood up and he faced us, his face lined with tears. His eyes ringed in red. He takes in a shuddering breath.

"A few months ago," he starts, "I got a message from a group of rebel soldiers. They told me they had heard where I was stationed, that I was from District 1 and that they wanted me to help them take down the new government. I planned to report them, I honestly did. But with the note there was a picture of—" he choked and dropped his eyes for a moment, fighting the sobs threatening to overtake him. "Pictures of my wife and daughter." He takes in a breath as my eyes widen. _Abbott_ has a family? "They were—they were chained and bleeding and…well the rebels told me that if I didn't help, they would die." His eyes close. "I—God, I couldn't let them die." Abbott meets Gale's eyes. "They had my _family_ Gale. They are—they were my _everything_."

"Are they….?" I trail off, afraid of speaking the horrible words out loud. Abbott looks at me and understands the question.

"As soon as they had what they wanted, they—" He stops, wrapping his hands around his stomach and bending over. He breathes slowly, trying to regain control. "They killed her. They killed my wife," he says. He leaps up, a new energy and anger fresh in his eyes. "Those bastards killed my wife!" he screams. He stops and stares at me. "And they want to do the same to my daughter."

"What do you expect us to do?" Gale asks. "We're stuck here. And it's your fault."

"Gale…" I say warningly.

"He's right," Abbott says his resolve turning steely. "It's my fault you're here. Which is why we have to get you out."


	19. Chapter 19

**Here's your update, my lovely readers. It has been much too long, and for that, I apologize.**

"_He's right. It's my fault you're here. Which is why I have to get you out."_

"And how do you suppose you do that?" Gale asks.

"I have a plan. And we're only going to have one chance to get it right."

"We? There is no 'we'." Gale says this calmly, emotionlessly. His tone sends shivers down my spine.

"Gale." He looks down at me. "We are _not_ leaving him here." He must see the resolve on my face because he nods his agreement. I turn to Abbott, knowing that the decision to trust him now determines how long the rest of my life will be.

"The hovercraft is landing at 330 tomorrow to refuel and gather supplies twenty miles outside of District 6. I've arranged for NUO officers to pick us up three miles South East of the landing site at 430 sharp. They were given directions to leave if we were not there by 431." Gale's eyes narrow.

"How did you get NUO officers to trust you?" he asks.

"I didn't get them to trust me. I got them to trust you." The tension in Gale's shoulders makes me nervous. I'm completely convinced Gale would risk getting electrocuted again for even the smallest possibility that he could smash Abbott's face in. "I sent an encoded correspondence under your name. They won't be expecting me to be with you."

"How do you suppose we get out of here?" Gale asks, gesturing to the charged metal bars.

"After we land, the electricity in the craft will be down for a total of 2 minutes starting at 345 while the system reboots. That means you will have two minutes to open the cell and escape." Abbott eyes shift to Gale who is standing motionless beside me. "There are weapons in a lock box behind the guard's post. The key is in a compartment within the desk. If you can incapacitate the guard, you can get at the weapons. Then you have to fight your way out."

"Where will you be during all of this?" Gale asks, his arms crossed defensively over his chest.

"Saving my daughter." Gale shakes his head in disbelief.

"Right. Your daughter. How do I know you're not lying?"

"You don't. But I'm your only hope of escaping, so you trust me or you trust the people who kidnapped you." He glances at his watch, then takes it off and hands it to Gale. "You'll need this. It's almost 1900 now, which gives you over eight hours to decide what you want to do. If you decide to trust me hide in the maintenance closet at the end of the hall. If I'm not there by the time the alarms start going off, run." Without warning, Abbott assumes a straight posture and arrogant grin. A moment later, I hear the footsteps that must have signaled the change. He turns towards the sound and calls out, "am I allowed to hit the bastard if he calls me a traitor?"

Two soldiers in white uniforms come into view. Gale stands slightly in front of me, assuming a protective stance.

"Abbott. I'm certain the General gave you strict instructions to stay away from the prisoners."

"I had to know if I'd actually pulled it off," Abbott said. "I didn't think I could do it. But he actually believed we were friends." The muscles in Gale's jaw tighten. I glare at Abbott, trying to look convincingly angry.

"Come with me," the other soldier says, his emotionless eyes landing on Abbott, who shrugs in response, the arrogant look never leaving his eyes. His ability to lie so convincingly makes me nervous, but at this point I don't see any other choice but to trust him.

**0.0.0**

"He's lying."

"You don't know that."

"There's a very good possibility that he's lying."

"So what if he is?"

"I'm not willing to risk your life at the word of this traitor, Madge."

"That's not really your decision, Gale." My words come out harsher then I'd anticipated. I run my hand over my tired eyes.

"We can wait it out. NUO willrescue us."

"Really. When did they tell you this?" Gale pauses in order to glare at me. I don't back down. "You—Gale Hawthorne—are willing to go down without a fight?"

"I will not let you die."

"I could die either way and I'd rather die fighting for my last breath."

"And I'd rather you not die at all."

"You don't get to choose what I die for." Gale stops pacing and props himself against one of the walls, his palms pressing into the concrete, his head hanging between his shoulders. "I'm going tonight, with or without you." Gale whips around, his eyes rapidly scanning my face for a bluff that is not there.

"You'd really do that?"

"Do you doubt that I could?" I ask, anger coloring my voice.

"Not for a second," he says under his breath. He walks over to where I'm sitting and cups my cheeks in his palms.

"I love you. You know that, right?" I ask him. "As obnoxious and arrogant and controlling as you are, I still love you."

"You sure know how to make a guy feel good about himself," Gale whispers, resting his forehead against mine. I smile at him and breathe out a sigh. "I love you, too. But you already knew that of course." He kisses me and for a split second, I forget where I am. I never thought that kind of thing could happen, but here it is. Me. Forgetting I've watched the General get blown to pieces. Forgetting I've watched my friend turn traitor—

I break away from Gale and feel myself go pale.

"Abbott killed Amatore," I say. Gale sucks in a breath.

"The General is—dead?" Once glance is all it takes to read each other's thoughts.

"We can't trust Abbott," I say.

"You're sure it was him?"

"It had to be." The pieces start falling together in rapid succession. "Abbott could have let me go. After the explosion, he could have let me run, but he took me to the hovercraft. I would have never suspected him of being the traitor. But he took me with him." I start pacing. "He must have been coordinating this for a long time. Right back to the original bombing. If he gained my trust, then he would gain yours." I look at Gale as it clicks into place. "They want you, Gale. The men controlling this ship need you for something. Amatore turned out to be useless, so they killed him. But they took you. And they're going to use me to get you to comply with their demands." Gale watches me as I puzzle this out, his gaze constantly steady. "Why would they want you?"

"Beetee. I know everything he knows. I am the only one who knows everything he knows." The way he says it makes me think he had already figured this part out.

"Then why not just take Beetee?"

"Because Beetee's old and stubborn. And he doesn't have someone they can torture to make him talk. He would die before telling them anything." Gale looks at me. The implication is clear. If it meant my life, he would tell them everything he knows. "We have two projects going right now that would make NUO nearly unstoppable. If they can get that technology…"

"We have to escape. Tonight," I say, refusing to for a second think of the repercussions of the enemy getting their hands on Gale's information.

"We're going to need a Plan B."

**0.0.0**

At 330, the plane lands and Gale and I do nothing. Guards are stationed right outside of our cell, watching us carefully.

At 345, the electricity goes offline, as we can tell by the absence of the tell tale hum.

At 346, Gale collapses.

"Gale!" I scream, throwing myself to the ground beside him. He claws at his chest, heaving in air as though he can't get enough. I run my hands over his forehead, his face growing red. The guards start to panic.

"What do we do?" one of them asks.

"Help him!" I scream hysterically.

"We have to do something!" another guard exclaims. He looks at me. "When I open the gates, you back away or you die." I listen to him. The gates groan open and I back away from them, watching as the guards crowd in around Gale. Gale shudders once then stops breathing which is when the guards lower their guns and start to panic. The man who opened the gate kneels down next to Gale.

The next thing he knows, he's knocked backwards, his head banging against the concrete ground. I rip his gun away from him as Gale stands, healthy as ever.

"Dammit!" a guard says as he points his gun at me. He's the first to die. Gale has already removed the gun strapped to the unconscious guard's ankle and starts shooting. We make our way to the weapon's chest. I shoot the lock off as Gale covers my back. I quickly grab all the weapons I can carry, slipping knives into the waistband of my pants and a gun over each shoulder. Gale and I switch positions as he loads up.

And then we run, without a glance back at the carnage.

The alarm sounds as the systems go back up. The entire world narrows down to me and Gale and the hallway in front of us. We take as many of their lives as we can without a single thought. In the end, it comes down to us or them. And I'd rather it be them.

The hovercraft is military issue and Gale knows everything about the military. He leads us down abandoned hallways and into the ships engine rooms. We reach the giant fans that offer the hovercraft its lift. The blades are currently still. Gale jumps through the space between two of the propellers and I follow him, not questioning him for a second.

We head South East, in the direction of District 12. We're taking a risk, heading the same direction Abbott told us to take. We could be walking straight into a trap. But Gale knows the woods surrounding District 12 better than almost anyone in all of Panem. Gale throws Abbott's watch into the forest, having already guessed that there is most likely a tracking device in it. We run hard and fast, knowing the enemy will be close behind us. Gunshot rings out behind us. I glance over my shoulder at Gale.

"Try to lose them!" he shouts. I weave in and out of trees. He does the same, taking a different route, but never straying too far from me. I scan the forest, searching for high ground. A bullet whizzes past my head, much too close for comfort. I throw myself behind a large tree and start shooting, taking down two enemy soldiers. Gale takes out three more. The rest scatter and Gale and I take off again.

We continue on this way for what feels like forever. They follow us relentlessly, never straying too far from us. The woods grow thicker and we start gaining ground. Gale is well-adapted to moving in this terrain and weaves in and out of the trees with confidence, but he always keeps me close, pausing behind a tree to take down our pursuers when I start to lag behind.

Without warning, the trees give way to an empty field.

In the middle of it sits a hovercraft.

When the gunfire starts coming from both sides, my heart drops in defeat. Gale throws himself onto the ground, and I follow suit.

"What are we going to do?" I ask, fighting to hold back tears. I have _never_ been so afraid in my life. Gale reaches out and grabs onto my hand, his eyes barely containing the fear I know must me mirrored in my own. I try to memorize every feature of his face, obscured by the blanket of night.

"We fight," he says over the sound of gunfire. "We fight for every minute we have left."

"We're going to die, aren't we?" I ask him. He kisses the back of my hand, his face streaked in dirt and sweat.

"I think so." I can see the effort it took for him to say that.

"I love you," I choke out. A tear carves a track down my filthy face.

"I love you."

And then we're up and running without another world, searching for our out. As the seconds tick by it looks more and more futile. We shoot wildly, hoping to take down as many enemies as we can.

I try not to think about death. About how this very second could be my last. About how at any moment Gale could drop dead beside me. About the possibility that I make it and he doesn't.

When I find myself looking into the barrel of a gun, I'm not surprised at all. I've already accepted that this field would be my grave. I level my gun at the shooters head with surprisingly steady hands, determined to be the one who kills my killer.

"Undersee?" I blink at the sound of my name. The gun lowers as I struggle to see the speaker through the haze of night.

"Commander Jund!" I ask. She's staring at me incredulously.

"You're alive." She scans my face, as though she can't believe it's actually me. Her eyes flash to a spot above my shoulder, then she aims her gun, and shoots. "Hawthorne?" she asks. I spot him, a few feet off to my left, leveling his gun at Jund.

"GALE!" I shout. His eyes flash to me and I shake my head. His brow furrows but he shoots anyway. I let in a strangled breath, thinking for a second he's shot the only person who appears to be our only ally before realizing he has taken out an enemy behind us. He jogs over.

"Jund?"

"Nice to see you alive, Hawthorne. Follow me." She runs towards the hovercraft. We follow her without questioning her loyalties, a foolish coming from people who have just been betrayed by their closest friend. As we move closer we see more and more familiar faces. I don't allow myself to hope for survival until we are safely within the metal hull of the ship. NUO soldiers pour in after us.

What feels like an eternity later, the doors close and the engines fire up, sealing us into safety, surrounded with our allies and friends.

I turn to look at Gale, standing beside me. Breathing beside me. Alive. He turns to look at me, gasping for breath. He brings one shaky, blood streaked hand up to my cheek.

"Someone get them to medical!" a nearby soldier shouts. Everyone is watching us, but we only have eyes for each other.

"We made it," he says. "How the hell are we alive right now?" I grin and bring my hand up to rest it on Gale's.

"I guess it takes a lot to kill us." He takes a step back to get a good look at me. The grin drops from his face.

"You're bleeding." I glance down and see the blood forming a dark red blotch on my grey shirt. I lift up the edge of my shirt and see the hole in my abdomen. All at once the pain rushes in on me.

"Oh." My knees buckle and Gale's arms come around me. I grip onto his shirt and struggle to maintain consciousness. "Ouch."

"Somebody help!" Gale screams. His chest rumbles under my cheek as he lifts me into his shaking, exhausted arms. I breathe him in letting the sound of his voice wash over me. I force all the chaos to melt away so that all that's left is Gale.

_This won't be the worst way to die,_ I think.

And then the world goes black.


	20. Chapter 20

**Soo…it's been more then two months since the last chapter. I. Am. So. Sorry. But, there is good news. The story has only a few chapters left and I know exactly what's going to happen and the next chapter is already started so I'm optimistic there will be another chapter in the next week :D Thank you so much for reading! Your reviews mean everything!**

GALE P.O.V

In all my life I remember crying one time.

I was twelve years old, sitting in the kitchen with little Vick cradled in my arms as my mother cleaned laundry when we heard a knock on the door. An old coalminer walked in carrying a letter. He said it was from the mayor. The look on his face told me that he did not want to be the one delivering this news. But life has a funny way of giving you everything you never wanted.

My mother opened the letter and read the short note printed on the page. I remember the exact words to this very day; "Dear Mrs. Hawthorne. We regret to inform you that your husband has been killed in a mining accident. District 12 sends its condolences."

That was all.

My mother read us the note, her face a blank mask, her voice equally expressionless. She did not cry. And neither did I. Vick cried. Rory cried. My mother and I hid our emotions because that was what we had to do. That night, I was lying in my bed, unable to sleep, and I heard my mother sobbing. And then I cried too.

I cried for a father that I already missed with every aching bone in my body. I cried for Rory and Vick and the tiny baby that had yet to be born who would never know her father. I cried for everyone who had known my father and everyone who had lost theirs and knew my pain. But mostly I cried for my mother.

My mother who had given herself so completely to loving my father. My mother, who until that night I believed didn't have tears. My mother, the woman who now had the job of caring for a family of four on her own.

And that was the last time I ever shed a tear.

I didn't cry when Katniss's name was reaped.

I didn't cry when I saw her kissing Peeta on national television.

I didn't cry when she was reaped for a second time.

I didn't cry as I watched my home being burned to the ground by enemies.

Or when I saw the faces of innocent children as they went up in smoke.

Or when I stood quietly in the background during Prim's funeral.

But for Madge? For the pain of everything we had survived together, everything we had fought for? For that moment I saw the light in the eyes of the girl I love dim and felt as she went limp in my arms?

I didn't break down.

I didn't cry myself to sleep.

I didn't do anything really.

But for the first time in ten years, there was a tear.

**0.0.0**

Before I could fully process what had happened, Madge was taken from me. After that, everything went sort of hazy. I was jostled around, moved from one room together. Medics ran a series of tests on me, asking me a battery of questions which I don't remember answering.

I didn't think for the longest time. Not even about Madge. I shut off the part of me that does all of the caring and I hid it away somewhere I hoped it would never be found. Eventually, I find myself in a sad white room. The only company I have is the staccato beat of soldier's footsteps and the sound of my own breaths. I feel a tear carve a trail down my cheek. The saltiness of it hits my lips.

I try not to think of the other injuries I've seen like hers. They've all resulted in casualties.

"_Casualties_". I mutter the word with spite. It sounds so…casual. I remember reporting "casualties" at meetings, talking about the men we lost like they weren't people. Like they were disposable. I spoke of casualties like I spoke of rationing. A nurse comes in and makes a fuss over me. I picture her with blood on her hands, covering her pristine white scrubs, telling me "I'm sorry. There was nothing we could do. She's dead." I see the General adding another casualty to the list he keeps on his computer.

Except there is no General anymore.

"Commander Hawthorne?" A young soldier pushes his way into the room, his back straight and his eyes determined. I wonder how old he is. I wonder if he knows what he's getting himself into.

"At ease, soldier." I stand up and try to pull myself together enough to resemble a soldier.

"President Paylor would like to see you, sir." I feel myself snap back together.

"The President?" Hypothesis after hypothesis passes through my mind in rapid secession. The logic involved gives me a headache, so I try to make that part of me stop too.

"Yes, sir." The poor boy looks like he lost a bet, which he probably did. _The one who picks the short straw gets to tell the cruel, grieving Commander that he has to meet with the President. _That's not a bet I would've liked to lose either. I let out a breath and look down at my filthy clothing.

"Do you know if there are extra uniforms on board, soldier?"

"Yes, sir. Would you like me to show you where, sir?"

"Yes, soldier." I'm still having a hard time picturing President Paylor being within one-hundred feet of me. The soldier walks briskly out of the room and I follow suit. I feel my heart hammering in my chest and wonder how much stress a person can take before their heart finally decides to stop beating. "How long has it been?" I ask.

"Since when, sir?"

"Since we…were rescued."

"Thirty-seven hours, sir." I stop where I am. It feels like I've been hit with a ton of bricks. For thirty-seven hours, I have been essentially dead to the world. When we train, our Commanders warn us about shock in combat zones, but never did I imagine I could possibly be a victim. But how else do I explain losing thirty-seven hours. Thirty-seven hours without news about Madge. "Are you alright, sir?" I want to tell him that I am most certainly not alright, but I don't.

"I'm fine." I nod for the young soldier to keep moving. His gaze is locked on a spot in front of us, ever the professional. "You have a girl back home?" I ask him.

"No, sir."

"Any family?"

"No, sir."

"How about a name?" I can see the young man getting increasingly nervous. He doesn't answer me for awhile, turning a corner and leading me down yet another hall.

"Grant, sir. Cooper Grant." I don't say anything after that. The soldier, Grant, takes in a breath and I can tell he wants to say something. He looks nervous, and I don't blame him. "Sir?"

"Yes, soldier?"

"There are a lot of people rooting for her. Undersee, I mean." I feel myself smile.

"Thank you, Grant." His eyes widen almost imperceptibly at the use of his name, but he doesn't say anything. He opens the door to a storage room for me. The walls are lined with extra uniforms ranging in everything from basic combat fatigues to officer's jackets to medical scrubs. I pull off a Commander's uniform and shrug into it, discarding the white scrub pants and t-shirt they had me change into earlier. I straighten the lapel and shift uncomfortably in the ill-fitting jacket. The neatly polished black shoes lie right under the uniforms and I pull a pair on. I let out a breath.

"Ready, sir?" Will I ever be ready to meet with the president? Probably not. I nod anyways. Private Grant leads me through a series of winding hallways to the other side of the hovercraft. He stops outside of the door. "This is the conference room, sir. President Paylor is inside." I stare at the door. Solid metal painted white, the same as the rest of the hovercraft. I wish Madge was with me.

I press the panel next to the doors and they slide open. I walk in, my posture perfectly conditioned, my presence strong.

"Commander Hawthorne," President Paylor says. "Just the man I wanted to see." The conference room is filled with all the hotshots: the President's personal advisors, General's from a variety of different posts all over Panem, sans one of course. I'm easily the lowest ranking officer in the room. Easily.

"It's good to see you again, ma'am."

"Please, take a seat." I listen to her suggestion, sitting down between the General Commander of NUO and President Paylor's military advisor. My heart rate soars. All I want to do right now is to sit by Madge, feel her warm hand in mine, watch as her breath gently enters and leaves her body. Feel her heartbeat. I turn my attention to President Paylor.

"It's been determined that you have discovered a terrorist cell. One that was poorly placed a mere ten miles from the Capitol, but well hidden."

"All due respect, ma'am, but I didn't exactly discover it. I was kidnapped and brought to it." The President smiles at me.

"Yes, Commander, but if you hadn't contacted us, you would have died without us knowing this place existed." Confusion overrides the nausea present at the memory of how close I was to death.

"I'm sorry, Ms. President, but I don't know what you're talking about." I can practically smell the confusion in the air.

"You reported in, Commander." She sounds almost irritated that I'm denying my supposed part in our rescue. "We have the official report here." She hands me a sheet of crisp white paper. Right here, the very first item. The caller says his name is Commander Gale Hawthorne. Just like…I get it now. Oh, God.

"Ma'am, is Commander Rorik Abbott aboard?"

The President seems startled for a moment over the sudden change in topic. "Yes. Well, sort of. He's in the morgue." I struggle to push aside everything I feel about Abbott. I cannot afford to think of him now. I cannot afford to lose it here. I cannot afford to think that if I had trusted him, I could have saved him.

"And was there a little girl with him?" My words are measured and careful. I notice I've dropped formalities and forgotten to address the President properly but all I can see right now is an image of a little girl with Abbott's piercing blue eyes.

"Um, yes," the President looks stunned. She stumbles for a moment before regaining her composure and carrying on like the powerful leader she is. "We found her lying beneath Abbott's body. We thought he had kidnapped her." I can see the scene in my mind. Abbott with his daughter, looking for Madge and me as he tries to escape and realizing he's on his own. Abbott, reaching the field long after we do, his daughter on his hip. Abbott, falling to the ground and shielding his daughter's body with his own in a heroic attempt to save her by sacrificing himself. I want to cry.

"She's his daughter, ma'am." The room grows silent as everyone's view of Abbott shifts. "Is she alright, ma'am?" I ask. The President looks thoroughly stunned.

"Yes, Commander. She has yet to speak, but she is alive." She runs her eyes over my face. She must see something there, some hint of the closeness I had to Abbott. "I'll make sure you see her as soon as we're done here." President Paylor takes only a moment to compose her thoughts before continuing. "We seem to be missing a few facts, Commander. Would you mind filling us in?" And I do. I tell the President every last miniscule detail of our captivity and our escape. I let the story that has been sitting in my mind slide out into the world as every esteemed officer at the table takes notes, listening to me with rapt attention. I tell them, most importantly, about Abbott and how, without him, I would be dead right now. I tell them that he deserves a hero's funeral. Paylor denies this request, but I understand; Abbott is still a traitor, despite his pure intentions. In return the President fills me in on what happened when I was too frozen to do anything.

"We have determined that the attackers were after Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark and General Amatore. They had an inside man, as you know, which was Commander Rorik Abbott. Abbott had underestimated the level of protection we had placed the targets under. In light of this new information, we can presume that he purposely withheld information. When the enemy failed in their original mission, they captured you and Private Undersee because of your personal connection to the primary targets. We have teams working on figuring out how they managed to pull this stunt off. In the meantime, we've planted units around the perimeter of the enemy base to monitor their actions. We were waiting for you, Commander, before making a final decision as to how to proceed."

"Me? Ma'am, I'm only a Commander. A young one at that."

"But by no means inexperienced. In the wake of General Amatore's passing, I've decided to promote you to General." I feel my jaw drop open in surprise. There are rules regarding a promotion like this. Standards I have yet to meet. But, again, she is the President and I would be a fool to mention any of these things.

"I'm honored, President Paylor."

"The official ceremony will occur sometime after all of this madness. For now, we have to work on resolving it." She pushes in a code on a small control panel and a holographic image of the area surrounding the enemy base appears. "At 100 hours tonight, our forces will attack. We're hoping to take them by sheer force and numbers."

"That will result in a lot of casualties, ma'am." There I am, using that word. Casualties. Like human life means nothing. President Paylor sighs and nods.

"Think about the options, General." My new title sends shivers up my spine. _General Hawthorne_. I shake that off and honestly consider the alternative scenarios. We could bomb the base, but that would require us to call in a bomb squad. The men we have stationed at the perimeter would be at risk unless we moved them, but then the enemy would suspect something. Not to mention it would take time to assemble a bomb squad and give the enemy time we cannot afford to give them. We could plan an ambush, but the time problem applies here as well. Planning an ambush takes a lot of back thought and careful positioning, which all require time. Actually, any possible plan requires time. And that is one resource we don't have.

"I understand, ma'am. It is our only option."

"I would like you to be there tonight, General. If you are up to it."

"I am."

"You'll meet your squad tonight, General. 1100 hours, sharp."

"Understood, ma'am. I'll be there."


	21. Chapter 21

**Two things:**

**I'm very sorry for the wait...like usual :/ sorry **

**I'm starting a new story for the Hunger Games. It's going to be one of those super stereotypical AU high school ones but you're supposed to write what you know and I know high school so I want to see what I can do with it. I don't have much of it up, but I'm going to try to write a few chapters in advance so I don't get behind. If you ever stumble upon it by chance and feel like reading it, I would love that. Thank you all for taking the time to read my story. Ohh, and if anyone so happens to want to beta and would like to take on this new story, please message me **

The first thing I notice about Abbott's daughter is that her eyes are the exact same shade of blue as her father's. The second thing I notice are the bruises and scabs covering her face; mementos from her time spent in captivity.

She whimpers when she sees me, standing in the doorway to her dark room, outlined with the light bleeding in from the hallway. She presses her back against the wall, throwing the thin blanket over her head.

"Hi," I say, trying to channel my mother's natural parental instinct. I don't think I do very well. "My name is Gale." I walk towards her slowly, trying to look as nonthreatening as a strange, 6 foot tall man can. I kneel next to her bed. Strands of light blonde hair dance across her pillow, glinting in the light coming in through the doorway. "I know you're scared. It's been a pretty scary night for me too." She pulls the blanket down so she can look at me, her eyes ringed red from crying. She doesn't look older than 6.

"You get scared?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper.

"Of course I do." I give her a reassuring smile, and she pulls the blanket down under her chin.

"Are you here to hurt me?"

"Of course not. I want to be your friend." She looks at me for a moment, like she's judging to see if I'm trustworthy.

"I'm Lily."

"It's nice to meet you, Lily."

"You're wearing my Daddy's clothes." I smile at her.

"That's because I'm a soldier, just like your Daddy."

"Do you know him?" Her face breaks into a brilliant smile when she mentions Abbott. I remember what it's like to be a little kid who idolizes his father. I also remember what it feels like to learn that he's dead.

"Yes, I did." President Paylor had warned me that no one had told this little girl that her father had died protecting her, putting me in the horrible position of being the one to break the news. The main difference between Lily's situation and my own is that when I found out that my Dad had died, I had my whole family there. A whole support system. She has no one but me, and I was a poor substitute for her family.

"Where is he? Why hasn't he seen me yet?" Her little voice trembles. I let out a breath and meet her inquiring eyes.

"In the battle, your Daddy got…hurt."

"I know. He told me."

"He did?"

"He said that was why we had to lie down in the grass and that if I closed my eyes and was really brave and wished really hard then I could get what I wished for and I wished that he would get better." I try to breathe through the pain in my chest. Despite Abbott's many flaws, he was a good and loving father.

"I've wished for things too," I tell her.

"Like what?" I pause as I try to think of things that won't scare her. I can't exactly tell her that I had wished I had been reaped instead of Peeta. Or that I hadn't had to kill Prim. Or that the girl I loved wasn't dying.

"Like for food. And for nicer clothes. And for a girl to like me." She giggles and sits up.

"What girl?"

"Her name is Madge." My voice breaks on her name and I curse myself for not being stronger.

"Where is she now?" I push away the stabbing pain that accompanies the thought of her lying on a hospital bed, alone and dying.

"She got hurt too."

"Did you wish for her to be better?"

"I did." I can't think of Madge right now. I glance at my watch. 22:38. A little more than 20 minutes until I have to leave. Barely enough time. Barely.

"There's something I need to tell you, sweetheart, and it's going to be hard for you to hear." Her eyebrows, a shade lighter than her hair, wrinkle together as she blinks up at me. She gives me one of those very serious looks kids have when they've had to grow up too fast. "Your daddy was hurt really bad. All of your wishes made him feel better, but he was really tired and…" I take in a shaky breath and try to find the words that will make her understand what she needs to know. "And he went to see your mom." Her little eyebrows crease like she doesn't understand.

"He's with Mommy?" she asks. I nod. "But Daddy told me Mommy is dead." Her eyes well up with tears. I see it in her eyes when she realizes, in whatever horrible way a child can realize, that she is an orphan. Tears stream down her cheeks and her shoulders begin to heave with sobs so strong I'm afraid they'll break her apart. I reach out for her, but she pushes me away, wrapping her arms around herself, using them as a shield against this cruel world and its determination to ruin her.

"I'll make sure I wish for you," I tell her, before quietly leaving the broken girl behind. I shut the door between us.

**0.0.0**

I stand outside Madge's hospital room, my back against the cold wall, unable to step inside. I hear the steady beeping coming from the heart monitor, assuring me she's still alive. I want to talk to her before I leave. Have her voice and her touch give me the strength I lack.

"You're not helping yourself." I break out of my haze and look up to see Arlo.

"Arlo? What the hell are you doing here?" I ask.

"Nice to see you, too." I grin as he walks over and embraces me. "You better get your ass in there right now, Hawthorne."

"It's not that simple."

"It really is. You put one foot in front of the other until you're through the doorway and—"

"I'm afraid that if I see her I won't be able to leave her." I break eye contact and glance at the ever-ticking watch attached to my wrist. Five minutes until boarding.

"Why do…you're going on one of your stupid hero missions, aren't you?" he asks. I stare at the second hand, watching my time with her flow through my fingers. Soon, there will be none left. I hear Arlo clear his throat and I turn my attention to him.

"I am." He grins at me.

"I guess some things never change." He assesses me quickly and shakes his head. "You're too pale."

"Sorry I haven't had time to go tanning." Arlo rolls his eyes at me.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"I don't know. Awhile ago."

"Get in there. Do what you need to. When you're done, you're going to eat what I give you. Or else." With that he walks away, leaving me once again with only her heart monitor and the ticking of my watch as company. So I follow his order.

Now was not the time for confessions of the heart. I could tell her I was sorry for getting her hurt. I could tell her about the mission I was going on or how I missed her even when she was here, in front of me. I could tell her how the sight of her, looking so uncharacteristically fragile, nearly broke my heart in two. I could tell her how I will never stop loving her.

But the doctor told me earlier that she has about a 50% chance of survival, and that was when you were looking at it optimistically. Madge is a fighter, I know that. But there's also about a 50% chance that I'll die tonight, too. Chances are, one of us won't live to see another sunrise.

The odds are most definitely not in our favor.

I spend two minutes and thirty seconds standing by her bed, watching her breathe. The movement in her chest is barely perceptible, but it's there and that gives me hope.

At three minutes I lean over her, letting the warmth from her body and the whisper of her breath touch my skin. Before I leave, I brush my lips gently across her forehead.

"Don't you dare die on me Madge Undersee."

**0.0.0**

I'm just finishing the food Arlo gave me when I reach the lobby with no time to spare. My team of fifteen is waiting for me already. I spot Private Grant standing with my team, sporting the dark red arm band that marks them.

"Said your goodbyes already, boys?" I ask them. They all nod and gather around me. I take the file I received from the President earlier this evening and pull out the diagrams for our mission. "Our forces are being separated into four major sections; one to cover each of the numbered areas. We are stationed here." I point to Section 1, shaded bright red, then snap the file closed and hand it to the soldier on my left. "Sections 2 and 4 are to serve as a distraction, one on either flank to draw enemy soldiers to those areas. Sections 1 and 3 are to make their way to the heart of the base and take the enemy down from the inside. And here's how we're going to do it…"

**0.0.0**

At thirty minutes passed midnight I send the men off to get weapons, taking a moment before following them.

The lobby is swarming with soldiers in uniforms. Some of them look as terrified as they should look, their jaws clenched and eyes darting as their Commanders give them instructions. Others look more like I did on my first mission; foolishly bold. Those who survive will feel differently when they return caked with blood and laden with regrets.

The weapons rack sits in the opposite corner of the room, displaying weapons ranging from rifles to bows to knives. I sling an automatic over my shoulder and feel myself settle under its familiar weight. I was never as good a shot with a bow as I was with a gun. I strap a hand gun onto one calf and a knife to the other. I already had my uniform prepared before this, bulletproof vest and all.

I haven't fought in a battle like this since the Revolution.

An strangely familiar yet unsettling calm settles in the air. We talk facts and strategies. Escape routes, attack plans, partnerships.

No one mentions the fact that at least one-quarter of the people in this room will be dead by morning.

"Commander?" Private Grant stands in front of me, his chin held high and his eyes flashing with excitement. I stand up and try to look optimistic. Nobody's dead yet.

"Yes, Private?"

"Before we march, I want to tell you that I'm grateful for the opportunity to fight with the best." I would have laughed at him, but I got the sense that he was being genuine.

"Don't start thanking me until I get you out alive," I say. "Go finish getting ready." He nods and turns. "And Grant?" He turns back around. "Don't get yourself killed." He grins at me, showing me the foolish confidence people so often associate with me.

"Yes, sir." I find myself smiling as I watch him walk away, moving confidently under the weight of the automatic. He reminds me of myself, which scares me a little. I only hope he has it easier than I do.

"I see you're getting soft, Hawthorne." Commander Jund walks over to me, her helmet hanging from her fingertips. I shoot her a glare before checking my watch and strapping on my own helmet.

"We march in ten," I tell her.

"That we do." She takes out her ponytail and fashions it into a braid, running long and straight down her back, the same way Katniss wore it all during the rebellion. "Try not to get yourself killed, Hawthorne. There are people here that need you."

"I can't think about Madge right now," I say. To dwell for a single moment on the possibility that I'll never hear her voice again, see her smile, smell her shampoo…

"I'm not talking about Undersee," she says with a smile. "I'm talking about your soldier's. And our base. And Abbott's little girl—"

"Lily?"

"I know you'll do what's best for her. If you die…" She gives me a look that tells me she isn't very optimistic about Lily's future. "And do me a favor."

"What is it?"

"If we both live, I expect a promotion." She holds out her hand for me to shake and I take it. "Congratulations, sir." I wrinkle my nose.

"That doesn't sound right coming from you." She laughs, her face brightening with the expression. With a swift and practiced motion, she slips her helmet on and buckles it under her chin with a quick snap. "Good luck tonight."

"We'll sure as hell need it."

**Soo, this chapter is pretty short, but the next one is going to be the battle, then the one after will hopefully be the final chapter. Thanks for reading!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Here's another chapter! Aren't you proud of the speed at which I've updated? We're wrapping it up here, folks! I'm super excited. As always, your comments are much appreciated and inspire me to continue writing. Thank you all!**

**0.0.0**

"_**At 100 hours, we board Hovercraft A."**_

The hovercraft we're using is a smaller version of the one that rescued Madge and I, making it less detectable to satellites and the naked eye. I settle myself into the seat next to the cockpit and buckle myself in. An automatic rests on my lap, the gun glinting under the overhead lights.

The soldier to my left carefully checks his ammunition with trembling fingers. The boy can't be more than 18. He loads his gun methodically, cursing when one of the bullets rolls onto the steel floor with a quiet ping. The band around his arm denotes that he's in my unit.

"Hey," I say. His body jerks as he looks up at me. His cheeks turn pink with embarrassment. "Take a deep breath, soldier. I'll get you out of this." He does what I tell him to, but his hands never stop shaking.

"Thank you, sir." His voice cracks at the end and his eyes flash back to his weapon.

I nod at him before turning to the pilot. "All systems go?"

"Yes, sir. Turning on the engines…now." He pulls a lever on the control board up. The gentle whirring of the engine makes the walls vibrate. With a sudden pop, the hovercraft takes off from the ground, and the mission is underway.

"_**We will parachute onto a field approximately two miles away from the enemy's base. Silence is crucial."**_

The hovercraft is flying at 5000 feet when it reaches the field we're supposed to parachute into. I can count the times I have actually jumped from a plane on one hand. Standing in the doorway separating me from the mile long drop, I feel my breath catch. Luckily for me, I only have a second to think before I have to jump.

One of the worst and best feelings in the world is falling straight through air. My stomach jumps into my throat and I quickly deploy my parachute. At such a low altitude we have to deploy the chutes almost immediately after exiting the craft. If we get too close to terminal velocity, the parachute will not have enough time to save our lives.

The black fabric soars out around me, jerking my body momentarily upwards before allowing me to continue downward, much slower than before. The glasses I'm wearing have the dual purpose of shielding my eyes from the wind and giving me night vision.

It's less than two minutes before my boots make contact with the ground. I quickly strap out of the pack and shove as much of the black parachute into it as possible while waiting for the rest of my team. They gather around me, their boots virtually soundless on the grass. I count heads as they gather around me. I close my hand into a fist, leaving my pointer fingers extended so they're facing each other and move them together, rotating my wrists when they meet so the right moves above the left. This is the sign used to ask for injuries. I check for the response. Everyone holds their right hand above their heads, tapping their two first fingers to their thumb twice. I let out a silent sigh of relief: everyone's safe.

"_**After landing, we'll hike two miles south to the northern flank of the building."**_

We dump our gear at the edge of the field, where the grass meets the tree line. Training sets in quickly for my men. They walk across the forest floor without making a sound. Muscle memory from years of hunting prevents me from even having to think about it anymore. I focus solely on the mission.

We move quickly, covering the first mile in 15 minutes. Sweat breaks out across my forehead. Adrenaline shoots through my body, lighting my veins on fire with a mixture of fear and anticipation. I want to move faster, just to burn some of this liquid energy that is filling me.

Not a word is spoken or a sound heard. A branch breaks off to our right. Everyone freezes, their hands hovering near their weapons, ready to shoot to kill. I hold up a hand to stop them and close my eyes. More movement in that direction tells me it's most likely an animal. A human would have seen us and frozen, careful not to make a sound. An animal would have no such thoughts. I open my eyes and look over to where the sound is coming from and sure enough, a slender doe is picking her way towards the field we just came from.

I feel Grant let out a breath behind me. We continue towards the base, moving quicker through the woods than we were before.

Finally we see the lights in the distance. We've made it.

"_**When we reach the base, we wait. It may take hours, or minutes, but we are not to invade until 5 minutes after the first gunshots."**_

The top of the hill leading down to the base is littered with trees. The placement is perfect for the enemy; hidden in a valley, rival guards have a clear view of any attackers. I lie down on my stomach, positioning my automatic so it's ready to fire. My finger rests on the trigger guard. We're not expecting any trouble and the last thing we need is to accidentally let off a shot.

We stay in the shadows, letting the natural lack of light hide us from enemy eyes. Night vision glasses will not be able to pick out the difference between a patch of black shadow where there are no men, and one where there are. This is the safest we will be all night.

I glance around at my men, counting heads and gauging reactions. The soldier two men down from me is silently crying, tears cutting a course down his cheek. I'm pretty sure it's the same boy whose hands were shaking so badly on the hovercraft. I want to do something to comfort him, but I can't risk it. Grant, on the other hand, looks exhilarated. His eyes are flashing as they dart over the concrete walls of the base, taking in everything. It's like every moment in his entire life has led up to this singular moment of glory.

The contrast between the two men is staggering.

We lay there for a very long time. The breeze cools the sweat from my back and I'm thankful for the thick vest covering my torso. I start to number my heartbeats, using them as a countdown to the next time I'll see Madge. Or to my death, if I want to think that way.

Sometime around 550 beats, my eyelids start to droop. I haven't slept in over a day, every second of that spent planning and worrying and running. Fatigue becomes my worst enemy, and for the first time I fear I'm not good enough for this mission. That picks my heartbeat right up.

I keep my gaze locked on the door we're going to enter through, carefully searching for anything that will give us away. There's a flood light over the set of double doors that will quickly give us away. I'm hoping that by the time we get that far, all attention will be focused on the diversion.

My earpiece crackles with static and I know someone far away on a hovercraft safe from harm has just turned on the communications system. I'm now linked to every other Commander on the field as well as those monitoring our attack. The system stays silent as we all wait for that first pop of the gun.

And there it is. A loud, violent sound ripping through the silence. Every muscle in my body tightens. My eyes are glued to the scene. Our soldiers sprint down the hill, making a break for the doors on opposite sides of the building. I watch a bullet tear through a man's neck, sending him flying backwards. He doesn't get up. A piercing scream tells me someone else has been hit.

My every instinct is urging me to run down that hill and do something to stop the carnage, but my instructions were clear. I was to wait the required five minutes before making a single move unless not doing so would jeopardize the mission. These are the longest five minutes of my life.

"_**The only thing we know about the inside is what I gathered under captivity. And I can tell you right now that it's not a lot. We're going to be thrust into unfamiliar territory with nothing but the guns in our hands, the clothes on our backs and the people we see around us. We will have no information and no clear direction. That, right there, is the dangerous part of the mission."**_

I lead the charge down the hill, my automatic held up as my eyes scan the top of the building for snipers. Apparently the enemy has been drawn away, just as we hoped for. I test the door, which is locked of course. I use my gun to shoot off the handle and kick it in, waving my men in with the tip of my gun. They rush inside the building, quiet as ever, and press their backs to the walls. My eyes take a quick inventory of my soldiers and then scan the surroundings. It's clear.

"_**We want to surprise them. Find our way around so that they're trapped. We want them to surrender and we want them to do it quickly. The goal is to avoid a massacre."**_

I lead my men into the compound. The inside is like a maze, each corridor splitting up in some sort of pattern I can't yet determine. I wish vehemently that I had more information about the place, but wishing won't help anything.

I take lefts, trying to move closer to the east wall. The halls are eerily silent. We practically sprint through the hallways, stopping at corners to check for enemy soldiers. As we get closer, I begin to hear gunshots and yelling. People talk through the com, giving details of the surroundings. My brain easily processes the dual information I'm getting about my surroundings; half from my companions, and half from what my own eyes are telling me.

"_**If you see somebody not wearing a NUO uniform, you shoot them. We want to minimize our casualties."**_

"_**But, sir? Don't they also count as casualties?" There's a pause.**_

"_**You can't think about that."**_

I lead my team around another corner, where we see our first insurgent. His back is to us as he runs down a long hallway. I quickly check behind me before stepping around a corner, aiming and shooting. His scream tells me I've hit.

Without a word, we continue forward, stepping over the man bleeding-out on the floor. Tears stream down his face as his hands claw desperately at his bloody shoulder. I try to not to think of him as a person.

I stop my men against one wall. The gunshots are so loud and crisp that I know we are very, very close to the fighting. The scent of blood sits so heavily in the air, I can practically taste it. I turn and meet the eyes of each and every one of them and know that they understand what we're about to run into. With that knowledge, we're off.

"_**Once we get there, we want them to feel trapped. Take them out before they have a chance to kill you."**_

Right away I start firing, taking down two men before they even spot us.

"They're coming from behind!" one of the men yells as he turns down a corner, issuing a warning to his comrades. My team floods into the hallway our guns held up. More gunshots ring out from behind me. I trust my men and their aim, feeling a strong camaraderie with them.

For a second I think of Madge, split between wanting her with me and wanting her safe. The thoughts drift away when another body falls to the floor. We keep moving forward, never letting them see us coming. It's not until we turn another corner that we reach trouble.

"_**Today, if one of us falls…we have to leave them." There's silence. "It will be the hardest thing you will ever have to do. But if you stop, you will be shot. And I'd rather have one dead man then two. Understand." Silence again. And then nods of agreement.**_

When the first enemy shot hits, we hurry back behind the corner. I curse under my breath when I see who was shot. The boy with the trembling hands.

Before I can do anything to stop him, Grant sprints into the hallway and pulls the kid into the safe corridor. I turn on my com with a click of my tongue and request back up. It's a shot in the dark, but it's better than nothing.

I wait to see Grant fall, but miraculously he comes back unharmed. There's a trail of blood leading from the floor to the kid, blood coursing out of his neck while he tries to hold it in with shaking fingers. Tears trail down his face, his teeth chatter together. I know he has, at best, minutes to live and it breaks my heart. It seems wrong that the youngest and most innocent among us would be the first to fall.

Grant falls to his knees beside him and presses his hand over the boy's. I join him on the floor, pushing back the wave of fury I feel towards Grant and the bastard who shot this kid. I smooth his hair out of his eyes. My hand is so dark over his pale skin.

"Come on, Preston. You can't die on me now, man." The boy isn't listening to him, I can tell that. The unfocused quality of his eyes, the quick breaths, the jerks that run through his body. He's dying.

"I don't—want to—go," he says. His words are strangled, barely recognizable. "Don't—make me—go." I look at the boy with a troubled expression. "I—like it here." His words puzzle me. I'm momentarily brought away from the battle raging around me. Why would this kid want to stay here, in this clinical hallway? Is it the pain? Does he want someone to be with him when he dies? I trust my other soldiers to protect us while we lend this dying kid our companionship. "Please—let me—stay." He keeps muttering under his breath, his eyes staring up at the light above our heads. His tears don't stop until his heart does.

Grant lets out a grunt of pain when he realizes the boy, Preston, is dead. He falls back, staring at his blood soaked hands. He looks beaten. He cares too much. In the military, that's the kind of thing that can get people killed.

I grab onto the collar of his jacket and lift him to his feet, pressing his back against the wall.

"That was a damn stupid move, soldier. Now is _not_ the time to be playing hero." The irony of that statement is not lost on me. Grant looks dazed, like he can't believe what just happened. I wish I could give him a moment to grieve, but we're in the middle of a battle and he just risked his own life, against direct orders. "If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I will kill you myself. Understand?" Grant doesn't say anything, instead opting to look at his bloodied hand.

"He didn't want to die." His words are hollow. The gunfire echoing around us is a constant reminder that we don't have time for this. I take a breath.

"None of us do," I say gently.

"That's what he was saying while he was dying. He didn't want to _go_. He wanted to stay here. He wanted to _live_." He pushes me away, causing me to stumble backwards, and starts frantically wiping his hands on his pants making bloody streaks on the fabric. He starts crying, his hands trembling just as bad as Preston's did.

I slap him, right across the face. He looks at me, blinking like he just came out of a trance. He wipes the tears from his face. "I'm sorry, sir," he mutters to me.

"We will morn him later," I promise. "But not now. We can't." His eyes turn to liquid steel, the fierceness coming back into him. He holds his gun so tightly his knuckles turn white.

"_**We want to show them our strength. Make them feel completely unprepared and pathetic against us. Use any force necessary to take them down."**_

My soldiers stay against the wall, looking for an opportunity to attack. We're stalemated, neither able to move forward. I check the area for any of our allies, then un-strap a grenade from my belt, type in the security code, and throw it. My men press themselves to the wall as we wait for the explosion. _Three, two, one_…

The wall trembles behind me. Smoke and debris trickle down the hallway. I run into the hallway, gun out, violently coughing. The heat makes my eyes burn, but the explosion has seriously injured the enemy soldiers. I kick the guns out of their reach and we continue forward.

I have my men spread out across the hallway as soon as I realize this area has a grid pattern. I take seconds to note when another one of my men goes down, but I don't let myself think about it. A part of me also knows the shots I fire are adding to the list of people I've killed, but I can't think about that either.

"_**If we do our job right, the battle should last under an hour. If not…" A pause. "Let's just do our job right."**_

Just as we wanted, the battle ends relatively quickly. Static on my com causes me to freeze, thinking that the system has gone down and we're isolated. Then a voice comes on.

"Cease fire. I repeat cease fire." I slip my finger from the trigger to the trigger guard. The intercom system in the building flickers to life, giving off a quick burst of static.

"This is President Morris of the Peoples' Militia." He takes a breath as we all stand perfectly still, our muscles tensed and our eyes locked on the enemy. "We surrender."

With those two words, all the stress and anxiety I've been holding in my muscles releases and I lower my gun. Everyone follows suit. The insurgents drop their weapons and get onto their knees, placing their hands behind their heads. In that instant, I know I've beaten the odds once again. I get to go home to Madge.

"_**When the battle ends, things are going to be chaotic. All you will be able to see are the dead. They will haunt you. That, men, is the worst part. The way you react in those first few minutes at the end will decide whether or not you have what it takes to be a soldier."**_

I survey the carnage, taking in face after bloodied face. My stomach roils at the sight, knowing that some of these people are dead because of me. I begin the walkthrough, taking the weapons and positioning the soldiers with their noses against the wall, hands behind their backs, ready to be handcuffed.

One man is hunched over a body, his hands running over the face of a pretty, blonde haired girl. Tears stream down his face as he frantically tries to keep her alive. His fingers tremble at her throat, checking her pulse.

He stands up and looks directly at me.

"You did this to her!" he screams. "You rebel bastard! You _killed_ her!" His hands are clenched in fists at his side. I watch him. The way his eyes are half hard, half broken. I can't look away. I recognize that look, like his entire world has just been destroyed. All I can think of is Madge.

Before I can process what's happening, I see a handgun leveled at me. Two gunshots fire simultaneously; one at me, and one at him. We fall together and the edges of my vision go black.


	23. Chapter 23

**Honestly, this probably could have and should have been up earlier…and then the internet did that thing where it distracts me with all of its brain melting greatness. So don't blame me. Blame the internet (excuses…)**

**This chapter is a little short (like 1200 words short) but it covers what needs to be covered, so enjoy **

Being shot hurts like hell.

I blink up at the ceiling, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Commander!" In my periphery, I see a soldier fall to his knees beside me. I focus on trying to breath, relishing in the small breaths I can manage. My head pounds with the mere thought of thinking. He rips my jacket open and pushes away the fabric, looking for the wound.

Instead of flesh and blood he finds the bullet proof vest that saved my life. He falls back, letting out a breath.

"I thought we lost you there, sir." I feel a distorted smile cross my face and take another moment before sitting up with a groan. I rub my hand across my chest, wincing at the sting of pain. A trickle of blood rolls down the back of my neck from where I hit my head against the tiled floor. My soldiers keep flashing worried glances at me, their guns trained vigilantly on our prisoners. I slowly get to my feet as the world tilts wildly around me; a sure sign I have a concussion. The soldier closest to me grabs onto my elbow, steadying me.

"Thank you," I choke out. I still haven't been able to take in a full breath. I see the man who shot me, dead on the floor. His blood pools together with the blonde woman's. I look away. "Let's hurry this up."

For the next ten minutes I half-stumble down the hallways clutching onto my gun like a lifeline. One of my soldiers caught me from falling sideways into a wall and suggested I go to the medics. I should have gone, but I didn't want to leave my men. As soon as we found another Commander, I handed control over.

I turn to my men before I go, looking at those remaining with half-focused eyes. They understand what I'm trying to say without me having to say anything. _Thank you_. Because, in the end, what else is there?

I sit on a hovercraft with 20 other wounded soldiers. The man to my left cradles his left arm carefully against his chest, his breathing rough, but his eyes strong. The woman across from me has fallen asleep on the shoulder of the man to her right. There's something strangely comforting about knowing I'm surrounded by survivors.

It's almost as difficult to breathe right now as it is to stay awake.

They bring us back to the District 2 base. _My _base. I don't remember ever being more tired than I am at this moment.

The doctor who sees me is all smiles as he examines me. It pisses me off.

"Yup. You have a concussion." I glare at him from under my half lidded eyes. Because I hadn't figured that out already now… "But don't worry, it's not that bad." I grunt in response. All I want to do is fall asleep. He asks to see where the bullet hit me and I strip down, showing him the dark bruise where the bullet struck the vest. He feels for bruised or broken ribs, apologizing when he notices my tensed muscles and gritted teeth. He orders me to rest for the next week. Before I leave, he tells me what I've been waiting to hear.

"Madge is awake." And in an instant, all of my pain and exhaustion and worry are instantly forgotten.

"Where?" My eyes snap open and I stand quickly, swaying a little. I quickly pull on my clothes.

"Follow me." He moves slowly. I think he's trying to make sure I don't fall behind. I just want to see her. He stops outside of a door and smiles at me.

I step through the doorway, and there she is. Sitting up, staring blankly at a wall. Her eyes flash up and a brilliant grin breaks across her face. I practically run over to her, pushing away everything that instantly feels less important than this moment with her. I gently grab onto her face, forcing my eyes to take in every inch of her. Her blue eyes which have the tiniest speck of dark blue in the light. Her tiny little dimples. The way her top lip is just a little bigger than her bottom lip. She wraps her arm around me and crushes those lips to mine.

"Gale," she sighs. She pulls me away from me, breathless. My thumbs brush over the dark circles under her eyes. Her face is too pale, but her eyes shine.

"I love you," she says. Her hand tightens around my bicep.

"I love you," I tell her.

"I was afraid I'd never hear you say that again." She lets out a breath and her entire body seems to relax. "Are you okay?" she asks me, her eyes alight with concern. She pushes me away so she can look for injuries.

"Fine. Never better." I instantly see the relief on her face.

"Good. Then I won't get yelled at for doing this." She slaps me clear across the face. Black rushes in, but I blink it away. I rub my cheek, surprised at the force behind the hit.

"You hit pretty hard for a girl who was just shot," I say.

"Do you know what they told me when I asked for you?" Her eyes are blue fire. The heart monitor beeps louder to keep up with her elevated heart rate. I shake my heads. To be perfectly honest, she kind of scares me. "That you, stupid hero-complex and all, were fighting. Less than 24 hours after almost dying." Her eyes fill with tears. "Are you insane? Are you trying to get killed? Are you trying to kill _me?_" I don't know what to say to her. The tears spill over. I reach out to her, but she just slaps my hand away, wiping away her own tears.

"Madge…" Her name is a whisper on my lips.

"Well?"

"I'm sorry."

"You're an idiot." Her voice is deceptively strong.

"I know." She looks over me again then pulls me towards her and crushes her lips to mine. She's out of breath quickly and breaks the kiss. I brush her hair out of her face, slightly alarmed by how warm her skin is.

"Are you alright?"

"Perfect," she mutters. I can feel her lips move, we're so close. She moves over in the bed and pulls me down next to her. I slide into the tiny gap left on the bed and gently place my hand over her injured stomach. She knits our fingers together.

"Madge?" I whisper, loving the feel of her name.

"Hmm?" Her eyes are shut, and her breathing is slower. She's as tired as I am, but before we fall asleep there's something I have to ask her.

"Will you marry me?" I watch her face, steely calm, but the heart monitor picks up her surprise. I keep my eyes fixed on her face, refusing to look away until I get an answer.

"Ask me again when I can know you mean it," she says.

"I do mean it." Her stomach rises and falls under my hand.

"Later." I press my lips to her shoulder, close my eyes and let sleep wash over me.


End file.
